Beautiful Dark Star Falling From Nowhere
by WastelandRose
Summary: The only person who ever mattered to Leila Kione was stolen from her. With nothing left, all she wants now is to make sure those responsible pay. But what happens when the last target on her list turns out to be much more than he seemed? CharlieWeasleyOC
1. Part 1: All Your Fault

Part 1 - All Your Fault

When I was only a few months old, my father left. Mom didn't like to talk about it very much, which was fine with me. Any man who would do something like that isn't worth talking about, or even remembering, so we didn't do either.

Mom and me were fine by ourselves. We got along great, and were each other's best friends. She had a good job, working as a cursebreaker with Gringotts, and I got to travel all around the world with her. I'd been on every continent by the time I was four, and was fluent in most languages by the time I was ten. I loved my life.

I was good kid. I tried my hardest to do well in school and stay out of trouble. Mom home schooled me, so it's not like I had much of a desire to prank the teacher, or anything like that, and I had enough adventure and excitement just from living the life I did. There was never any need for me to seek out trouble, because it always in abundance.

Anyways, nothing ever found us that Mom couldn't handle. She was brave, and strong, and there was never a single moment in all of our travels that I can ever remember having been truly afraid. My mom loved me, and I knew she would never let me be harmed.

Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, July 28th, Mom got contracted out to a dig site near Zurich, a Neolithic burial ground protected by ancient curses. At that time, I was apprenticing with her to become a cursebreaker myself, so, naturally, I got to tag along.

It was a trap. The second we arrived we were ambushed, and, since it was an isolated, rural site, there was no hope for help, or escape.

I'm not exactly sure how long they held us. Days and nights kind of faded into each other, but it was a a fucking eternity. The thing I remember most is the screams.

None of the men, who always covered their faces with black bandanas, ever laid a hand on me unless it was to gently move me, bound and gagged, to a conveniently out of the way corner, but they tortured my mother, and I saw the whole thing, watched and listened while they took turns cruicioing her, and beating her, and raping her, and promising that it would all stop if she would just tell them where Remus Lupin was. She never did, because she didn't know.

I cried and tried to tell them that, just tried to make them understand. I had never even heard that name before, and she had never once mentioned it during all my eighteen years of life, but in the end it didn't matter. My mother's strong, proud body gave out.

It was raining the night they put her in the shallow grave, the hole a dense, soupy mud pit by the time they kicked her body in. Then they threw me in on top of her. I was buried alive with murdered mother, and suffocated on a vile mixture of blood, and mud, and pure summer rain.

Through some twisted miracle, I survived.

I woke up in a stark white hospital room with no idea how I had gotten there. I should've been dead. My mom was dead. The sun was shining in through an open window as a pair of songbirds happily chirped on a tree branch just outside. I totally lost it, immediately bursting into tears. I cried for hours, mourning my mother and cursing the world that would allow her suffer like she did.

Then I got angry, and I swore revenge on those responsible. Even if it killed me in the end, even if I had to sell my soul, I would make sure that the people who were the cause of my mother's torture and death would be punished. I would kill them all with my bare hands.

I ran from the hospital before anyone came in to talk to me. I didn't want to hear it, and had a mission to do. I raided Mom's bank accounts for money, took passports and travel papers, and set to work.

It may seem a little bit crazy that a teenage girl traveled the world all by herself for over two years, tracking down and slaughtering members of a highly trained mercenary group, but I was more than a little bit crazy with grief and anger, and it turned out not to be that hard. When they realized who was killing them, the morons mostly came to me.

And I decimated them, the fact that they were an elite branch of Death Eaters who called themselves the Moros, their purpose information gathering by torture techniques and ruthless murder, barely even registered as I slit throat after throat. I had more than one close call where I thought I had finally met my match, but I always came through in the end. I always got my man, and, as the years went on, I just got better at it.

After I killed the last one, still with no idea as to why they came after my mom to begin with, I didn't feel at all satisfied.

That name kept haunting me, the one they asked her about. None of the men had given me a single piece of information about Remus Lupin as I killed them, but I knew that it was his fault. Whatever he did, if they hadn't been looking for him my mom would still be alive.

I became fixated on making him pay as well.

He took a lot longer to track down than the mercenaries had, but, after six months of searching and a sizeable bribe, I finally had a picture of my target, and an address at which he could be found.

Twelve Grimmauld Place. It was a rundown piece of crap, despite the complicated charms hiding it, and I snuck in through the front door at around three o'clock in the morning, carefully defusing several security alarms. After silently and stealthily searching the bottom floor and finding nothing, I crept upstairs through the pitch darkness.

The old house was creaky, every squeak or groan of the floorboards as I walked across them had me jumping into the shadows, watching with nervous eyes to make sure no one had heard before resuming my search.

I went into every room, finding lots of kids sleeping soundly in their beds, a snuggling couple or two, and even a snoring hippogriff. The search was just starting to get frustrating when I finally found him.

He was unmistakably Remus Lupin. Sandy brown hair streaked with gray and spread out on his pillow, scars all across his face and bare chest, and an expression of anguish even in his sleep were all giveaways, and he matched the photo I had perfectly. I smiled, almost relieved that this would all be over now, that this would be my last revenge killing, that maybe I could finally find some peace. The knife was suddenly in my hand, and I raised it up high, not making any noise at all as I prepared myself to bring it down into his heart.

I barely heard the door opening behind me, or a sleepy grunt of, "Moony, heard someone skulking about. You being an insomnamom... insomnium... you not sleeping again?"

"Die," I whispered, and the sleeping man's eyes shot open as I plunged the knife down.

Unfortunately, he was faster than I thought, grabbing my wrist before I could stab him, falling out of bed as he wrestled me to the floor and took my weapon. The voice from the doorway intervened as well, cursing wildly as he shouted into the hallway about an intruder, raising an alarm and bringing everyone else from their beds.

The lights came on, and I was pinned to the ground, Remus panting hard and sitting on me, keeping both my arms up over my head. He was certainly a lot stronger than he looked.

"Is it a spy!" I heard someone gasp as I thrashed about, desperate to get free and kill the man on top of me. "GET OFF!" I demanded, "GET THE FUCK OFF ME! YOU HAVE TO DIE YOU BASTARD! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"L-Leila?" Remus asked, sounding breathless, and almost happy. It made me stop, glowering up at him as I spat, "How the hell do you know my name!"

The room was oddly silent as the man stuttered, "I-I... Y-You... M-My..."

Before he could finish the thought, I realized that his surprise had made his grip on me loosen, and I took advantage of that, bucking him off me with a feral battle cry. Chaos, and shouting, and a pretty intense struggle came next, but I regained my knife from the floor, and, straddling him, managed to try once more to kill Remus. Unfortunately, I barely managed to put a shallow scratch across his throat before I was hit with a stunner right between my shoulder blades. I froze, suddenly unable to draw air into my lungs, and the only thing I can remember after that is blackness.

xxXxx

The room I woke up in was very dim. A faint glow from behind thin curtains told me that it was daytime, but, going by the way I felt, it should've been two in the morning. My whole body ached, and I barely had the energy to remember what had happened to me.

But, very quickly, I did, and shot up from the warm bed I had been tucked into, immediately scrambling for an escape route.

The windows were sealed shut and warded, as was the door, and my knives and wand were gone. Someone had taken my clothes, too, switching them for a set of baggy, red flannel pajamas. I was pissed.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!" I shouted, kicking, punching, and throwing myself against the door in an effort to beat it down, "OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW! LET ME OUT YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

By the time someone actually did come to let me out, probably about an hour later, I was too caught up in my tirade to actually notice that the door was opening, and ended up falling right into a hard body.

"Hello there," A deep male voice chuckled as I was hugged in a pair of strong arms, "If I had known you were so eager to meet me I would've come up and introduced myself sooner."

"GET OFF!" Was my instantaneous reaction, shoving him away from me and taking a wild roundhouse punch at his head. It wasn't that hard to hit, seeing that it was literally a bright red target.

He crumbled to the floor, knocked out cold, and I barely passed a fleeting glance over his long red hair and scarred face before turning and running down the hallway, hell bent on an escape.

I managed to find a stairway that led me down into the kitchen, and grabbed a big, sharp steak knife before continuing through the house, prepared to attack anyone I came across. Fortunately, I remained undetected, silently slinking past the one room where all the people in the house seemed to be gathered, arguing heatedly over a subject that I could only assume was me. Remus was in there, slouched in a corner, his head in his hands as a tall man with long, graying black hair and ragged features spoke softly to him.

I wanted nothing more than to kill Remus, but it would've been too risky at the moment. Now that I knew what he looked like and where to find him, my best bet was to run now, and come back later to finish him off. So that's what I did, or, at least, tried to do. I never quite made it that far.

In the entryway, not even three feet from the door and freedom, something started screeching obscenities behind me. I turned, and it was an ugly as hell portrait of some old woman, an even uglier house-elf grinning wickedly at me with the curtain that had been covering the hideous canvas clutched in its knobbed hands. The stupid thing did it on purpose.

"Why you little..." I grumbled as it cackled to itself and ran from the room, leaving me to deal with the larger than life hag who was shrieking, "MUDBLOODS! HALF-BLOODS! TRAITORS! ABOMINATIONS! LEAVE THIS PLACE! YOU BEFOUL THE HOME OF MY ANCESTORS!"

My mom was a half-blood. "SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU STUPID BITCH!" Was my immediate reply, loud enough to drown her out as I attacked in a blinding rage. Before I really knew what was happening, the painting was shredded, hanging in silent tatters from the frame.

I was breathing really hard by the time it was over, the knife clutched in my white-knuckled hand, my whole body shaking. Just maiming it didn't seem like enough. I wanted to set fire to the remains of that evil portrait, and then I wanted to spit on the ashes.

But I didn't have the time because a voice was cleared loudly behind me, and I turned to find that my escape route was cut off by Remus and the man with the black and gray hair, who was surprisingly tall, though painfully skinny.

It didn't matter. I growled, and launched myself right at Remus. He looked old, so I didn't think he stood a chance.

Unfortunately, I was surprised once again by his speed and strength, and ended up getting slammed and pinned up against the wall. He had a dead serious expression on his face as he knocked the knife out of my hand, but his friend laughed, commenting, "Feisty little thing." I growled, and he continued by pinching my cheek and chuckling, "I'm so excited! Little Leila's come home! I finally have both my godchildren back!"

"SHUT UP, FREAK!" Was my response as I bucked against Remus, more pissed about the fact that his idiot friend was teasing me than I was about being prevented from killing him.

"Hey!" The black and gray haired man shouted indignantly, "Moony! Your daughter told me to shut up! And called me a freak! You should so ground her!"

"If I was going to ground her for anything, Padfoot," Remus responded flatly as I continued to bite, and kick, and scratch, and yell, "It would be trying to murder me, not telling you what we're all thinking." That earned a nervous laugh from the group that had gathered around us as the other man hmph-ed, and pouted like a child.

The whole 'daughter' comment hadn't really meant anything to me, and I was still focused on getting loose and killing Remus. The redhead I had punched out upstairs chose that moment to stumble into the room, groaning and rubbing the side of his heavily scarred face as he grumbled swear words under his breath.

I heard a small voice yell, "Daddy!" And a cute, freckly little girl, probably two-years-old, at most, with pale blue eyes and long, almost glowing red-gold hair pushed her way through the crowd, immediately jumping into the scarred redhead's arms, hugging him tightly around the neck and tenderly stroking his cheek as she asked softly, "Are you ok, Daddy? Did you get a booboo?"

He returned a loving, utterly devoted smile, cradling her against himself as he soothed, "Ya, I did. Will you kiss it and make it better, my little Roo?"

"'Course, Daddy," She responded, shooting him a heart-melting grin before grasping his head firmly in both her tiny hands and giving him a big, wet smooch on the cheek.

My hysterical struggle for freedom died down a bit, and I spent a few moments just glaring at the pair, extremely angry at them for some irrational reason.

"Alright, mate?" Remus' grinning friend asked the man on the stairs. The redhead turned, smiling slightly as he nodded in my direction and reported, "Ya. 'M fine. The little hellcat over there punched me. Knocked me out cold, and- OW!"

He was cut off by the little girl in his arms smacking him sharply in the side of his face. Confused, he rubbed at the sore spot as the girl scowled at him and corrected, "Granny says you shouldn't call names! It's not nice!"

"Um... sorry, love..." He responded, sounding slightly in awe that she just disciplined him. It was oddly cute.

"FUCKING LET ME GO, YOU SON OF A BITCH! LET ME GO! I'M GONNA KILL YOU! YOU HAVE TO DIE, YOU USELESS, STUPID PIECE OF SHIT! IT'S YOUR FAULT SHE'S DEAD!" I was getting sick of being pinned again, and used the opportunity to voice my displeasure once more.

The little girl gasped, covering her ears as she shouted, "Daddy! Make her stop! She's gonna get in trouble! She doesn't know the rules!" I just screamed louder, not doing anything more than shrieking at the top of my lungs, but I didn't care. It was better than nothing.

That's when someone decided to hit me with a silencio and an imobulus, and I found myself unable to move or speak, not to mention severely pissed.

With a relieved sigh, Remus loosened his grip, gently picking up my slight body and carrying me past the group of assembled people and into a dingy little sitting room with rich wood paneling on the walls. After laying me gently on a couch that was a deep shade of green, he sat down across from me and let his head drop into his hands, groaning loudly.

The group gathered round, and I used the opportunity to take in the fact that they were mostly more redheads, with a bushy-haired brunette, a black-haired boy, and a young woman with a shocking pink pixie cut thrown in for good measure. I instantly hated them all, but, strangely, couldn't seem to read their reactions to me. Most people would be scared or angry, but they just seemed confused, and a little bit worried.

"LEEEEIIII-LAAAAA!" A sing-songy voice chimed right before I was sat on by the black and gray haired, annoying, goofy friend of Remus'. I wanted to tell him to get his bony behind off of me, but couldn't, so I settled for a glare as he grinned down at me and reported, "Wow! I remember you when you were just a teeny little thing! How did you get so big all of a sudden!"

"She's nineteen, mate," Remus grumbled, his voice pained, "Almost twenty. It's not that all of a sudden." The other man shrugged, his attitude reminding me of a teenage boy's even though he looked like he was in his forties or fifties, "Still... I remember her as a screaming little ball of goo from right after Sid had her. This big, grown-up Leila is kinda weird-"

"SHUT UP ABOUT MY MOM!" I screamed, causing everyone in the room, including myself, to jump. Throwing off a silencio is a difficult, nearly impossible thing to do, but I guess I was really just that mad about some bastard friend of Remus Lupin's talking about my mom. He didn't know her, and he didn't have the right!

"Whoa..." One of the redheads, a twin, I realized, muttered, sounding rather impressed. His identical brother added, "Wicked..."

"Let me up right now!" I demanded, hoping that my luck in throwing off curses would work on the one that had me immobilized as well. It didn't.

"Leila, please calm down and let me talk to you," Remus begged, sounding ecstatic, yet close to tears, "I... You're finally back, and I just want to explain everything-"

"Explain what!" I shrieked in reply, slowly starting to grow very agitated by not being able to move. It felt sickeningly similar to when those men buried me alive, and I didn't like it at all, "That you're a moron, and whatever stupid, petty thing you did to piss off the Death Eaters got my mom killed! Thanks, already figured that one out on my own! You're gonna pay for what happened to her! I don't care if it takes the rest of my life, or if I have to die to pull it off, but I'm gonna make you pay!"

The room was very, very quiet for quite some time. I think I might've scared the poor dullards, but didn't care. Remus was going to understand exactly how much pain he put my family through, and then he was going to die slowly, and at my hands.

But, at that moment, I had bigger problems. The curse was really starting to freak me out, and I had begun sweating, and shaking, and having trouble breathing. "You... you gotta take this curse off me..." I told them, closing my eyes, trying to get the memories of slowly suffocating on my mom's blood to stop flooding every single one of my senses. I could smell it, and taste it, feel it soaking into my clothes and being forced into my pores as more wet earth was piled into the grave. I was going to throw up, "Take it off NOW!"

"Say please!" The little girl scolded haughtily from her father's arms. I groaned, hyperventilating, head spinning, pleading breathlessly, "P-Please..."

I'm not quite sure what happened next, because that's when my traitorous mind decided it had had enough, and shut itself down.

xxXxx

It was dark again when I woke up, the dim glow from behind the curtains replaced by a slight shimmer of moonlight. I was in the same room as the first time, but felt three times worse. And I also wasn't alone.

"Hi," It was Remus, calmly sitting right beside my bed, wearing an enigmatic little forced smile. I glared and spat sharply, "What the fuck do you want!"

The smile disappeared, and he looked hurt beyond all comprehension. I felt rather proud of myself, even though I didn't understand why the hell the comment would affect him so much. He hung his head, mumbling broken-heartedly, "I told you before, I just want to talk."

"Shove it," I told him, squirming slightly to realize that the curse had been taken off me. "_Excellent_," I thought, before spitting cruelly, "The only thing I want to hear from your mouth are pleas for mercy while I rip your intestines out your arse!"

And then I attacked him. Before he even had a chance to wince at the comment, I leapt out of bed and threw myself right at him, knocking him and his chair to the ground as I just started punching. It might not have been as satisfying as slicing him up, but without a knife it was the best thing I could come up with. And it was kind of nice to feel his nose break under my fists.

"Leila!" He shouted, not hitting me back, but trying to grab my arms and stop me from hitting him, "LEILA! STOP IT! I'M YOUR FATHER!"

My arm froze on the back swing, and my mouth dropped. I didn't want to believe it for even a second, but, gazing down into his bleeding, scarred face, noticing how some of the streaks of sandy blonde left amongst the gray of his hair match the shade that hung from my head, how his bone structure was so similar to mine, how the yellowy-amber eyes gazing pleadingly up at me were almost identical to my own, I knew it was true.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Even I was surprised by the fury in my voice as I landed a few more punches on his already bloody face, "YOU ASSEHOLE! YOU COWARD! YOU LEFT US! YOU LEFT US, AND YOU GOT HER KILLED! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

It felt like my heart was going to rip in half, I was screaming, and punching, and, though I didn't realize it until he managed to wrestle me onto my back and pin me to the floor, I was crying. Once he had me held down, it turned into full on angry sobbing, and I shouted up into his face, "IT SHOULD'VE BEEN YOU! THEY SHOULD'VE KILLED YOU! MY MOM IS DEAD, AND YOU'RE STILL ALIVE, AND IT'S NOT FAIR! I WANT HER BACK! BRING HER BACK!"

He turned his face away as I broke down, unable to look me in the eye any longer as he whispered sincerely, "I would if I could... I would trade places with her if I could, but I can't..."

"It's all your fault," I told him flatly, my voice cracking, laced with rage as angry tears dripped from the corners of my eyes, streaking through the dirt on my tanned cheeks. He sighed, "I know."

"I hate you," I continued, venom lacing every syllable as I struggled halfheartedly to get my wrists out of his grip. Again, he sighed, "I know."

"Is everything alright in here?" The both of us looked up when the door opened to reveal a fairly short, skinny young man with thick black glasses and longish, sleep-tousled black hair. He was shirtless, red and green flannel pajama pants hanging off rather pronounced hip bones and hollow abs. When he saw the position we were in, Remus bleeding and trying to restrain me, a wand appeared in his hand so fast that I didn't even see where he'd pulled it from. Probably out his arse, the little fruit... His expression instantly went from slightly groggy to fierce, and he demanded, "What's going on!"

"Everything's fine, Harry," Remus sighed tiredly, his hold on my arms loosening slightly as he turned to address me, "Can I let you up now?"

"You can," I answered, sniffling but trying not to, "Won't guarantee that you'll live to regret it though."

The young man, Harry, apparently, pointed his wand at me, "Don't try anything." Remus sighed again, "Harry, please, I can handle her. She's just angry."

"DAMN RIGHT I'M ANGRY, YOU TWAT!" I shrieked back, kicking beneath him, yelling loud enough to wake the whole damn house, "I DON'T THINK ANGRY QUITE COVERS IT! TRY HOMICIDALLY INCLINED! NO, APPARENTLY PATRICIDALLY INCLINED!"

"Remus..." Harry warned, seeming eager to hex me, his wand hand twitching. The old man on top of me merely shook his head, then let me go.

I jumped to my feet in an instant, and kicked Remus hard in the temple. Then Harry jinxed me, and I hit the floor really hard, the wind knocked out of me as I found myself suffering from a jelly-legs. At least I could still move my arms.

"Little fucker!" I swore at him, dragging my body into a corner as he advanced on me. Remus stopped him, standing to his feet and placing a hand on the boy's bony shoulder. For just being punched and kicked in the head, the old man looked surprisingly alert. Damn resilient bastard...

"It's alright, Harry," He said sadly, "You can go back to bed now."

"But, Remus!" He argued, seeming scandalized, "She just said she wants to kill you! I can't leave you alone with her!"

The girl with the bushy brown hair, and one of the taller redheads chose that moment to wander into the room, both yawning and stretching. "Who wants to kill Remus?" The girl inquired tiredly, leaning against the boy's bare chest. He put his arm around her, affectionately petting her hair as he mumbled, "I think probably his psycho daughter."

"I am not his daughter!" I hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at Remus as I added, "That man is nothing but a sperm donor to me! A soon to be dead sperm donor!"

The redhead giggled deliriously, "Hehe, sperm..." The girl elbowed him lightly in the gut, rolling her half-closed eyes at his childishness. I just continued to glare.

"Ouch... Right, totally not funny," The redhead agreed, rubbing his ribs, yawning, then glancing over at me and waving as he greeted brightly, "Hullo. I'm Ron, Ron Weasley. Nice to meet you, um... Remus' killer child."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but decided I'd bite, responding, "It's Leila, Leila Kione."

"Pretty name," He said, a slightly goofy, extremely crooked grin crossing his face, making his long nose wrinkle at the bridge, and crinkles appear at the corners of his bright blue eyes. It was hard to not to smirk in reply, and I shot back a curt, "Thanks. Yours sucks."

He seemed confused, but, nonetheless, continued by nodding to the brunette under his arm, saying, "This is Hermione Granger." The girl waved nervously before Ron went on to point at the other boy in the room, "And that's Harry Potter."

"Oh," I said, suddenly remembering the name. It's a little hard not to, "Ya, scarfaced messiah. 'Sup?"

He merely scowled, which was kind of hilarious, and just made my smirk widen.

"Not that I don't enjoy the death glare," I shot back, "But do you mind taking this jinx off me?"

"Why should I?" Harry countered bitterly, folding his arms across his nearly concave chest, "You're just gonna try to kill Remus again!"

"Well... Ya..." I responded, rolling my eyes, "Good work, Captain State-the-Obvious! The universe is once again safe thanks to your outstanding powers of deduction!"

Remus, with his nose still bleeding and his eye beginning to bruise and swell, sighed heavily, walking towards me as he scolded, "It'll be fine, Harry. We'll have to settle this in the morning." Without another word, he picked me up from the ground, holding me tight despite the fact that I started punching at him the moment he touched me, and gently laid me back into the bed. He tucked me in tenderly, even though I tried to scratch his eyes out, then turned, and insistently prodded the three young people out of the room.

"HEY!" I shouted, indignant over being left like that, "GET BACK HERE! TAKE THIS JINX OFF ME RIGHT NOW!"

He smiled softly over his shoulder, "It'll wear off in a few hours, and I'll be back in the morning to let you out. Sleep sweet."

"WHAT!" I demanded as he shut the door behind himself. Then I heard him place a few wards on the outside, followed by a silencer, and that was it. I was locked in, and no one could hear me scream.

I did anyways. I screamed until I was hoarse and exhausted, until I was in tears from the burning in my throat and the utter frustration of not being able to finish what I'd gone there to do in the first place. I fell asleep just as the glow from the sun came back to the closed curtains of my prison cell.

xxXxx

"She's still asleep?"

"I know, even after the twins had a go at getting her up. Poor thing must be totally wiped out."

"Attempted murder will do that to a person."

"Shut up, Potty. You don't know anything about her. Maybe she has a damned good reason for wanting to kill the Big Bad Wolf."

"Like what, Mal-ferret!"

"Being a dead-beat dad not good enough for you?"

"That's not a reason to kill him! Besides, Remus isn't a deadbeat! It has to be something else!"

"If you're so curious, why don't you ask instead of just jumping to nefarious conclusions about her personality? Oh, wait, I forgot that's a specialty of yours."

"Shut up! I would, if she would get her lazy arse up out of bed!"

"Harry, Draco, for Merlin's sake, give it a rest! If we don't wake her, everyone's going to have to sit through another meal with my mum fretting about her not eating, so just stop fighting and help me!"

My head felt like an overfilled balloon when I woke up the third time. The room was too bright, and too noisy, and I wanted to tell whoever the hell was in there to bugger the fuck off, but my throat felt like I'd done beer bongs with hydrochloric acid. It made me recall the hours I'd spent screaming earlier, which just pissed me off.

"Go away," I groaned, my voice a gravely croak as I rolled away from the noises and curled into the heavy blankets on the bed. Another attempt at Remus' life wasn't in me at the moment, and I just wanted to sleep off my Feellikecrapitis.

"Sleeping Beauty awakens!" One of the voices chuckled just before the blankets were ripped off my body. I hissed when the cold air hit me, but kept my eyes stubbornly closed and hugged my long, flannel-clad legs to my chest. "Come on, Princess," The voice urged, sounding like its owner was leaning across me and shouting in my ear, "Up and at 'em! There's lots and lots of food downstairs, and I'm sure you're hungry!"

"Fuck off," I gritted in reply, barely cracking one eye open to realize that the man harassing me was none other than the redhead I'd punched the other day. Also present was the almighty master of the universe himself, Harry Potter, and some wimpy little kid who looked like he'd been in a fight with a bottle of bleach... and gotten his arse severely kicked.

The redhead smiled, a shiny bit of scar tissue that cut from above his right eye, through both his lips, to his chin pulling taut, "Come on. My mum is an excellent cook, and everyone is really excited about meeting you properly!"

I gave him a groan-growl, sneering before dragging myself up out of the bed. I stood in the back corner of the room, as far as the three men as I could get. Crossing my arms over my chest, I snarled, "I'm up. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Bleach-boy responded haughtily, a smirk crossing his aristocratic features, the expression so annoying that my hands literally itched to slap it off him. Remus may have been the only person I wanted to kill, but I was quickly getting a very strong urge to maim quite of few of his moronic friends as well.

"Yes, we are happy," The redhead insisted, glaring at bleach-boy before turning back to me and giving another scar-tissue smile before taking a few steps across the room and offering his hand, "Hi. I'm Bill Weasley."

I just glared at his hand, not taking it and noting that he had scars there as well. I mused that something must've really chewed this guy up and spit him out. "Great," I shot back, "I'm Leila. Can you show me the way out of here?"

"Ha, not a chance," Bleach-boy chuckled. I narrowed my eyes at him, glaring briefly before fighting the pain in my throat to comment, "So you weirdoes are gonna keep me prisoner? That's, like, kidnapping."

Bill chuckled, "Actually, we prefer to think of it as harboring a fugitive. You're pretty high up on the Ministry's most wanted list, you know?" I let a small smirk come back to my face, replying gruffly, "Maybe if they didn't spend so much time lookin' for lil' ole me, and more time on scum-of-the-earth, evil-as-can-be Death Eaters, there wouldn't be so many of them for me to kill."

"Too true," Bleach-boy remarked bluntly. He might've been a rude, snobby, little albino brat, but he agreed with me. I find that a redeeming quality.

"Anyways," Bill cut in, running his fingers through long, loose locks of red hair, seeming to subconsciously be using them to cover some of the more severe scars on his face, "I'm sure you must be hungry, so how about coming down for dinner?"

"Pass," I grunted curtly, then demanded, "By the way, which one of you perverted fuckers stole my clothes?"

"My _mum_," Bill scolded, frowning with displeasure, "Thought you'd be more comfortable in pajamas, so she used a spell to switch a spare pair of them for your clothes. She's washing and mending them for you."

"Ugh, great," I groaned. The comment didn't seem to make Bill, or Harry very happy, but it had bleach-boy grinning like it was Christmas morning. He crossed the room to stand beside Bill, not bothering to offer his hand, merely snatching mine, sweeping into a low bow and planting a kiss on the back of it before I had the chance to smack him, introducing, "Draco Malfoy. Pleased to make the acquaintance of a creature as lovely as yourself."

"Sweet Circe," I swore as I pulled my hand away and wiped it on my pants, "Give it a rest, slime-ball! You couldn't get me to touch your fun parts for all the gold in Gringotts, so don't even try!"

The other two men were instantly snickering at the look of insulted shock that passed over bleach-boy's features, and Harry commented, "Looks like she's got you pegged, Mal-ferret."

"Bite me, Potty," He grumbled in reply, turning and stomping from the room with his pitifully short tail between his legs. I was rather proud of myself.

"You seem to have a real way with people," Bill laughed, giving me a light shove towards the door, "We've got plenty more downstairs. You can play with them if you go down there."

"Well," I said, pushing Harry out of my way to grumpily march down the hallway, "I guess as long as you guys are keeping me prisoner, I've gotta have something to keep myself entertained."

xxXxx

When normal people find out that there's a homicidal maniac living in their house, they generally run away screaming, or, at the very least, try not to interact with her too much.

When the jackarse-flavored filling of Twelve Grimmauld Place found out about me, they, like not-so-bright chimps, were curious, and rather excited.

In fact, there was a bit of a melee at the dinner table over who would get to sit next to the 'crazy bird.' The redheaded twins, who introduced themselves as Freddy Mercury and Jorge the Wonderful before their mother smacked them both upside the head and said their names were Fred and George (prompting them to argue cheekily, 'That's what we said!), eventually won out, and sat on either side of me, staring with goofy grins on their identical faces.

"What!" I snapped dangerously after sitting through only about five minutes of it, glaring back and forth between the two. The one on my right smirked, asking, "You really trying to kill ole Lupin?"

I grunted and turned away in disgust, muttering, "Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots..."

"Dear, would you like some tea with honey?" The old woman, Mrs. Weasley, asked kindly as she bustled about the kitchen getting dinner ready, "Your voice sounds simply dreadful."

"I'm good, thanks," Was my curt response. She gave me tea with honey anyways, and, because it did smell kind of good, I drank it while silently glaring at everyone seated at the table.

There was the twins, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Bill, and his daughter, Arielle, who everyone called Roo for some odd reason, another redhead, named Ginny, the father of the Weasley clan, Arthur, and a nervous pink-haired chick, Tonks. Remus himself was conveniently absent, and all his little friends were looking at me like I was some kind of sideshow exhibit. It got very irritating.

"WHAT!" I snapped once more, not even getting them to jump in fright, and none of them answered me. Merlin, I was so furious!

Eventually, Mrs. Weasley brought out dinner, which was soup, which immediately made me roll my eyes and accuse, "Don't trust me with a knife and fork, eh?"

The group snickered quietly while Mrs. Weasley turned red, claiming, "I don't know what you're talking about, dear."

That earned another eye roll, and I teased, "Soup won't keep my homicidal side at bay, you know. I can kill Remus with a spoon as easily as with a knife. It's just a lot messier."

"Really?" The twin on my left inquired, sounding generally interested as he slurped loudly at his bowl of hearty chicken noodle. I began picking at my own meal, muttering, "Sure, done it before. Scoop out the eyes to slow 'em down, and then jam the handle in the brainstem." The room went oddly silent after that, and I spent the remainder of dinner smirking evilly to myself and staring down anyone who dared to meet my gaze.

After the soup, we had milkshakes for dessert. Apparently, my spoon comment had scared Mrs. Weasley, and she decided to eliminate utensils entirely. Bill was right, screwing with the people downstairs was kind of fun.

"DING DONG, THE WITCH IS DEAD! WHICH OLD WITCH! THE WICKED WITCH! DING DONG, THE WICKED WITCH IS DEEAAAAD!" Remus' annoying prat of a friend came skipping and singing into the room just as I drank the last of my chocolate malt. Everyone else started rolling their eyes, and I heard Hermione grumble, "I knew I shouldn't have bought him that DVD player..."

The big, goofy guy was completely elated, and jumped on me the second he saw me, hugging me tight as he shouted, "YOU KILLED HER! SHE'S FINALLY GONE! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU!"

"UGH! GET OFF ME, FREAK!" I growled, immediately struggling to get out of his embrace, taking a few punches and kicks at him. He didn't seem to even notice, merely squeezing me tighter, and pissing me off more.

"Don't call names!" The redheaded toddler demanded crossly, sporting a gooey strawberry mustache that was dribbling down her unhappy pout and delicate little chin. "Oh, bite me, pint-size!" I bit back, "He is a freak! NOW LET GO!"

"Come on, Leila," The freak in question laughed, "This is time for celebration! All traces of my evil mother's rotten soul have been scoured from the earth! Stop being a sulky teenager for a few minutes and just be happy with me!"

"Yippee," I indulged sarcastically, still trying to shove him off, "Can I go yet?" He chuckled, annoyingly ruffling my hair, "You ain't goin' nowhere. We decided to keep you!"

"What?" I asked in a dangerous growl, finally managing to push the man off me, sending him sprawling onto the kitchen floor. I jumped to my feet, shouting, "You can't fucking keep me here! I played your twisted little game for long enough and now I'm leaving!"

"Leila! Wait! Hang on!" I heard Bill call after me as I sprinted out of the room, making a mad dash for the front door. This time, I actually made it outside, and thought I was finally free.

Unfortunately, at the end of the walkway, right where the stone path met the sidewalk, I met with a little complication: a large, completely solid wall of red energy that suddenly materialized out of thin air. I ran head first into it, and got a rather painful shock, then got thrown clear into the house.

Lying on my back in the entryway, sprawled across the hardwood floor like I was making snow angels, only one word came to mind: "Ow."

"Tried to warn you," Bill laughed as his face suddenly swam into my vision, a cheeky grin stretching his scars, "Remus spent all day warding you into the house. He's not gonna lose you again, like in Zurich."

That comment pissed me off, and, if I hadn't been having so much trouble with breathing normally, I would've gotten up and kicked Bill's arse. "What the... hell does... he know... about Zurich!" I managed to grit out through clenched and grinding teeth, furious that any of those people, let alone Remus, would actually claim to understand anything I went through in that city.

The redhead gave me a confused look, which just made his face twist into an odd mass of stretched scar-tissue as he knelt at my side and tried to help me up. "What does he know about it?" Bill muttered quietly, "He was there. Who did you think dug you out of that grave?"


	2. Part 2: Lie to Me

Part 2 - Lie to Me

"Leila."

"Stupid arse Lupin!" BANG

"Leila!"

"Thinks he can keep here!" BANG

"Leila!"

"I'll show him!" BANG

"Leila!"

"I'll show them all!" BANG

"LEILA!"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT!" After almost two weeks in Grimmauld, I was going more than a little bit stir crazy. I'm a fairly nomadic person in general, and the fact that Lupin was avoiding me, and all his idiot friends _weren't_ was starting to wear on my last nerve. Being locked in my butt-ugly, mauve jail cell on a regular basis didn't help things either. Yes, I'd been, as Mrs. Weasley put it, 'acting out my aggression towards Remus,' which included three small fires in his bedroom while he happened to be sleeping in it, an arsenic laced stew that suspiciously found its way into his bowl (I still wasn't trusted with utensils, so the whole house was on a liquid diet that had the bathrooms fairly crowded), and countless assaults as I passed him in the halls. That damn bastard just wouldn't die!

"Something's blocking the door!" The voice that was bothering me declared dumbly, making me laugh, smiling at my reflection in the window as I called over my shoulder, "Ya, it's called my big fat arse! Go away!"

BANG I nailed my reflection in the face with the tennis ball I'd been throwing at it for the last day and half. It was boring, but I needed something to pass the time, as my latest escapade, prying up a floorboard and going after Remus with it, had gotten me banished once more. BANG

Bill had gotten my things from the motel I was staying at, but unfortunately searched them and confiscated my weapons, cigarettes, booze, and even a bag of weed that was supposed to be my post-murdered-Remus celebration. BANG The tennis ball was a stroke of luck, and it was just about the only thing that kept me sane during those long hours I spent locked up as punishment for my latest attempt at Remus' life. BANG

"Leila," The someone outside went back to pounding on my door, interrupting my fuming and scheming, and just pissing me off in general, "Leila, come on! Open up!"

BANG "You jerks are the ones who locked me in here," I stated sarcastically, laughing as I continued to slam the tennis ball against my reflection, against my tan skin, light freckles, small nose, full lips, yellowy-amber eyes, and sandy blonde hair. BANG I was hoping that my face would shatter, that the glass would break and I'd be able to make another run for it, but was having no such luck. The damned thing was charmed and warded to keep me in. BANG

"Don't be like that," The voice pleaded lightly, "Moody said I could let you out now, so just open up."

"I want my weed back!" I told him gruffly, not moving from my spot on top of the antique dresser I'd pushed against the door BANG "And my cigarettes, and my booze, and my knives, and my wand! Give them back, and I'll think about coming out." BANG

"That's not going to happen," The voice scolded, immediately tipping me off to the fact that it was Bill. No other male in the house had that 'I am very disappointed in you' voice perfected quite as well as he did, "That stuff is bad for you. Smoking, drinking, and... uh... attempted murder are not allowed in the house!"

BANG "It wouldn't be _attempted_ if Lupin would just fucking cooperate," I joked bitterly, still making no effort to move. BANG

"Oh, that's it..." Bill shouted, sounding pissed. I heard him take a few steps back, then, "_EFFRINGO!_" BOOM!

The door to my room exploded inwards with a violent cloud of dust and debris, sending me, the dresser, and large shards of wood and plaster flying through the air. I landed hard on my head, doing an awkward somersault before my butt hit the opposite wall and the dresser fell on top of me.

When Bill finally pulled it off, I was hacking fiercely on the half of the manor that was lodged in my lungs. "ARE YOU CRAZY!" I demanded, my whole body feeling like one solid, aching bruise, "THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNCALLED FOR!"

He smiled guiltily, "Sorry. Guess I got a little carried away." I stared at him like he'd grown a few extra heads, coughing, "Jeez, bipolar much!"

He offered me his hand, but I shoved it away and struggled to force myself up. "Are you ok?" He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. I just glared, then punched him in the head again. He went down, out cold once more, and I turned and stomped out of the room. That guy was very K.O. prone.

"Who let you out?" Harry demanded grumpily when I ran into him on the staircase. With an evil smirk, I didn't even halt my progress downwards, taunting, "That would be Chewtoy. What's it to ya?"

He shot me a death glare, bright green eyes narrowing behind smudged glass, "I don't want a crazed killer wandering around unsupervised!"

"Chewtoy doesn't seem quite right in the head," I shot back, smirking as I tried to move past him, "He gets free reign of this crap-hole."

The skinny idiot stepped into my path, scowling as he threatened, "Don't make fun of Bill! And stop trying to kill Remus! He's a good man, and whatever you think he did wrong, he didn't!

I had that boy pinned against the wall by his throat in under a second, his feet kicking pitifully as his eyes bulged and his face flushed to the same ugly shade of mauve that saturated my room. He gurgled with exertion, scratching at my arms, giving me several sets of raw claw marks, but I didn't care. I sank my fingernails into the flesh of his neck and growled venomously as I watched the blood drip, staining his grubby, oversized, white t-shirt.

"You don't know _anything!_" I hissed quietly, my voice a cold razor through the air between us, "Fifty or so Moros, those are the _really_ twisted Death Eaters, held me and my mom captive for, near as I can figure it, _a month_. She was starved, and beaten, and tortured, and raped, and she died with a cock in every shredded, bloody orifice. She died choking on a masked sicko's dick, all her teeth broken from the force they'd been using on her while they just _took_ her body. She was blind, because they'd burned out her eyes so they could gratify themselves in the empty sockets, and she was bleeding everywhere because they _cut holes in her_ so more of them could fuck her at once. And you know what else?"

Harry didn't look angry anymore, just shocked, and he asked in a blank, forced whisper, "W-What?"

I let my grip tighten on his neck, cutting off the last of his air, and leaned in very close to his ear, "They made me watch the whole thing, and when it was over, when my mom's broken, used up body was lifeless and worthless to them, when they'd all finished _pissing_ on her corpse, they buried me with her. _Alive._"

I paused when he started silently gulping wildly, giving off the impression of a dying fish while I just choked him harder. I almost felt bad. Almost.

"And do you know _why_ they did that to her?" I continued dangerously, "To us?"

Gasping, weakly trying to free himself, the spindly young man shook his head. His whole face was getting an ashen, pale blue tinge to it, so I let him go, let him crumble down onto the step and breathe again.

While he was coughing and wheezing, I knelt down beside him and informed lightly, "It's because of Remus Fucking Lupin. They were after him, but they killed her, and it's not right. Stop pretending like you know _anything_ about why I'm mad, and just do your best to stay the fuck out of my way."

With that, I stood up and sauntered down the rest of the stairs. At the bottom, I looked over my shoulder to find that he was still on the ground, still struggling to breathe, and I called sincerely, "And, for Merlin's sake, lift some weights. How the hell do you expect to save the world if you can't even fight _me?_"

xxXxx

"Hey, Leila! Long time no see!"

"Ya! How's your latest attempt at Lupin's life going?"

I blinked, pausing for a moment in my rummaging through the drawers of a desk to glance over my shoulder. It was those twins, Fred and George, and they were wearing identical smirks on their broad freckled faces.

I scowled. They were irritating, and hard to tell apart. They'd spent the whole I'd been trapped in that house following me around like puppies, despite the fact that they were in their twenties.

Still glaring at them over my shoulder, I grumbled frankly, "Would be better if I knew where his cowardly arse was hiding..." I'd searched the whole damn house and couldn't find any sign of the loser. I was stuck there, and he could leave, and it was _so_ not fair.

"Aw, too bad," The twin on the left chuckled. He was wearing a faded orange Weird Sisters t-shirt, while his brother had on a purple and black Ballycastle Bats polo. I made a mental note, so it would be easier to keep them straight. The one on the right, Ballycastle, added, "Ya, most entertainment we've had in ages!"

I glared, turning to go back to searching the desk as I spat, "I'm glad you find me so amusing."

"You play quidditch?" Weird Sisters twin inquired brightly, either oblivious or undeterred by the fact that I was pissed. "Ya," I snapped briefly in reply, hoping that would be the end of the incredibly irritating conversation. It wasn't.

"Will you come play with us in the backyard?" Ballycastle asked sweetly. I turned around, planning to tell them both to bugger off, but they shot me mirror-image pouts, begging together, "_Please?_"

With a groan, I threw my hands up in exasperation as I abandoned my search for something I could turn into a weapon, or at least something I could drink, smoke, or hit myself over the head with the give my consciousness a break. "Ugh, fine," I shouted gruffly, "Got nothing better to do until I can figure a way out of this hell-hole..."

"Excellent!" The Weird Sisters twin chirped as he took a few rapid steps forward to throw his arm around my shoulders and shoot me a charming grin, "You can be on _my_ team."

"HIYA!" As soon as he touched me, I grabbed him by the wrist and kung-fu flipped his arse. I can't say exactly _why_, and I kind of felt bad, but it was pretty hilarious.

"Ow," He groaned, flat on his back on the floor, the wind knocked out of him as he stared up at me. The other one, Ballycastle, came running, looked over his twin, then turned to smirk at me, "Nice reflexes."

I shrugged, giving Weird Sisters my hand and hauling him roughly to his feet as I explained, "Sorry, gut reaction."

"No... No problem," He gritted out between gasps as the three of us walked leisurely to the backyard.

Once we got out there, I saw that it was a rather spacious field of unkempt grass that was cut through by a winding cobblestone walkway. The area was sparsely populated by a few gigantic weeping willows, the thick roots of which were pushing up bits of the walkway in places. Crumbling stone statues, knock-offs of Grecian figure studies, were also back there, being strangled by the creeping ivy vines that were also all over the house. It was picturesque, yet unavoidably creepy in its decaying beauty.

"What position do you play?" Weird Sisters asked brightly, seeming to have gotten over being slammed into the ground. I shrugged, "Any, but I prefer beater."

The both of them grinned, Ballycastle remarking, "Wicked. We play beater, too." He then frowned, scratching his shaggy ginger locks as he knelt down next to a large equipment crate, "But we've only got two bats."

"Well," I offered, going through a stack of ratty old brooms, "We can play Squish." Weird Sisters looked intrigued, "What's Squish?"

With a wide, malicious smile, I snatched up the best broom and one of the bats, explaining, "Kinda like a live target game. The two with the bats compete to see who can get the most shots at the person without, who's flying around trying not to get hit. Limbs are one point, torso is five, and the head is ten."

"Sounds fun," Weird Sisters announced, dive tackling his brother and wrestling the bat away from him, "I call not the target!"

"Hey!" Ballycastle pouted, "No fair!" Weird Sisters grinned, already mounting a broom, "Tough. I've been abused enough for one day." Ballycastle stuck his tongue out at him, then, when he saw how me and his brother were sharing evil, conspiratorial glances as our grips on the bats tightened, he 'EEP'ed, and took a running start before jumping onto his broom to get away from us. Weird Sisters kicked the crate to lose the bludger, and we took off after it.

I have to admit that I did have a good time with the twins during the two or three hours we spent outside. Even when it was my turn to be the live target, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I was laughing, and teasing, and trash-talking, and it was the most fun I'd had in a long time. Weird Sisters ended up winning, but I didn't even mind, and would've been happy to play another few rounds had I not spotted Remus Lupin watching me fondly from the backdoor.

All my happiness left immediately, and I forgot all about the game. I snatched Ballycastle's bat from him, hitting him hard enough to cause an out of control barrel roll, then went straight for the bludger. I crushed it right for Remus' head.

Unfortunately, he saw it coming, and managed to duck in time to avoid getting hit in the face. I swore at the top of my lungs, but then happened to notice that, even though the bludger hadn't hit Remus, it had hit _someone_. His idiot friend, Sirius, just happened to have been standing behind him, and got the full force of the blow, and was sprawled on the floor with a broken nose. The bludger itself got into the kitchen, and just broke shit for the several long minutes it took for Remus, Sirius 'I spurt nose blood everywhere' Black, and the newly conscious Bill to wrangle it into the backyard once more.

After they managed that, I had all three of them glaring up at me. The twins looked a little nervous, hovering at my sides and seeming like they were trying to think of some clever way to get me out of trouble. Like I cared.

"Leila, get down here," Remus demanded, which just made me laugh. "No thanks," I replied in a fake-sweet voice, "After being on lock down for so long, I'm rather enjoying the outdoors. Maybe in a few hours, when I get bored."

"I'm not playing around with you. Come down _now_," He was clearly growing frustrated and angry, and I was growing more and more amused by the whole situation. I grinned, and shot back, "Oh, in that case... _hell no_."

"LEILA! GET YOUR SKINNY LITTLE ARSE DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" Sirius suddenly cut in, still spurting and clearly not happy about it, stomping his feet like a petulant child having a temper tantrum. Again, I just smiled, "Nope, don't think so."

And that's when Bill hexed me. I didn't even see it coming, and then just hit the ground, hard. Thick black spots that reminded me of burns on a film reel exploded behind my eyes, giving the clear spring sky a necrotic appearance that gave me chills.

I had the wind knocked out of me from the force of the impact, and couldn't draw air into my lungs. It felt like drowning in a sea of nothing, like suffocating on my own body.

My previous experience with not being able to breathe, getting buried alive with my mom's corpse, may have given me just a little bit of a phobia because I freaked out... in a writhing and convulsing spastically, trying to scream, scratching at my own throat kind of way.

I probably would've passed out if it hadn't been for Remus kneeling down beside me, forcing me up into a sitting position, and smacking me gently on the back as he commanded, "It's alright. You're alright. Just calm down and breathe slowly."

It took about ten minutes before I could actually do that. And then I realized that Remus was touching me, and took a swing at him, but, since I was extremely lightheaded, that made me topple over and also sent me into another violent coughing fit. He just sighed, and propped me back up again, insistently helping me to remain breathing. Jerk.

"Ar... Arse... hole..." Was the first thing I managed to choke out, my voice weak and strained as I glowered right at Bill. The redhead smiled guiltily, "Sorry, love, but you've gotta quit punching me in the head. It makes me grumpy."

I tried to glare, but my eyes were watering like crazy, not to mention that I started coughing again, so I don't think the look was quite as threatening as I'd meant it to be. "Why don't you come inside and lie down?" Remus offered, carefully pulling me to my feet. Once I got there and realized that I could stay standing on my own, I wrenched my arm free from his grasp, coughing, "Don't need... _your_ help..."

He sighed sadly, pinching the bridge of his nose right along the ridge of an old scar that looked like a set of claw marks across his face. "Leila," He said quietly, "Please stop being so hostile. I understand you're angry, but if you'd just let me talk to you-"

"You _understand!_" I cut him off, suddenly oblivious to my dark, spinning vision, my voice low and dangerous, "You _UNDERSTAND!_"

He took a step back, and I took a step forward, wobbly, but determined, "You weren't there! You've _never_ been there for us! You don't have any idea of what happened, so don't even pretend to _understand!_"

I could tell he wasn't afraid of me, because he didn't run, or even look for help from the small crowd gathered around us, but his expression was utterly pained. It didn't matter. He was the bad guy, the evil villain, and he deserved every ounce of suffering because no matter how much he got, it would never compare to what he caused my mom.

"I'm sorry," He responded calmly, his refusal to allow himself to show emotion really infuriating me, "I'm sorry I was never there for you, but it wasn't by choice."

"BULLSHIT!" I shouted, getting right in his face, "YOU CHOSE TO LEAVE! WHAT, MOM WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR WIFE, BUT SHE WAS GOOD ENOUGH TO DIE FOR YOU!"

His aged face remained placid, yet sad, and he looked me right in the eyes, pausing and just watching me pant with rage before he declared quietly, "That's not what happened."

After a moment of just staring in disbelieve, I laughed bitterly, challenging, "HA! That's rich! Ok then, what did happen! Please, enlighten me!"

He sighed, glancing around at Bill, Sirius, and the twins, "Maybe you'd like to have this talk more privately-"

"No, NOW!" I cut him off, completely livid, "You don't get to have this talk _privately_! Afraid to let all your little friends see that you're not as good as they've been fooled into thinking you are! That you're a coward, and a deserter! Go ahead and tell them! Maybe then they'll get why I hate you so much and stop fucking asking me!"

"I really don't think-" He tried to argue, but, once more, I cut him off, shrieking, "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!"

And then I took a swing at him, a wild roundhouse that he ducked out from under, making me lose my balance and spin around. I would've fallen over had Remus not caught me, wrapping surprisingly strong arms around my body from behind and trapping me against his chest.

"LET GO!" I screamed, kicking like crazy, trying to get out of his grasp, "LET GO OF ME RIGHT NOW, YOU FUCKING JERK!"

"I didn't leave," He insisted, quietly growling the statement into my ear as his arms tightened, "Your mother left _me_, and she took you with her. She took you away, and never came back."

I immediately stilled, my mouth hanging wide open with disbelief. All my life my mom told me that my dad left us very soon after I was born. She never offered any elaboration, and I never asked for it. I trusted her completely.

But then Remus was telling me the opposite, and he sounded so sincere. I didn't want to believe that my mom, the amazing woman who taught me that, beside family, honesty and trust are the only really valuable things in the world, had spent eighteen years lying right to my face.

"NO!" So I decided that I wouldn't believe it, "NO! YOU'RE LYING! MOM SAID YOU LEFT! SHE'D NEVER LIE TO ME, SO YOU'RE THE LIAR!" I was kicking and struggling again, hysterical in my efforts to get away, but he wouldn't let go, keeping me completely restrained, preventing me from hurting myself or anyone else.

"It's the truth," He insisted, his voice still calm and flat, like holding back my violent fit wasn't a challenge at all for him, "I loved your mother, and I love you, and I came home one day and you were both just gone."

I was crying, but didn't realize it until my voice broken when I yelled, "N-No! Stop it! You're lying!"

"I'm sorry," He said quietly, his grip on my body tightening as my knees weakened, and then gave out. Instead of restraining me, he was holding me, supporting me while I cried.

xxXxx

Remus forgot to lock me in my room that night. It was probably because he was distracted by my inconsolable crying jag, and the hail of every object I could grab as I threw them at him and demanded he get away from me.

Around midnight, I finally calmed down enough to realize that I hadn't been sealed in. I was still a prisoner, but at least my cell was a hell of a lot bigger. I was still confused, not sure whether I really bought Remus' story. I was also angry, with myself for thinking I might believe him, and with my mom for lying to me if I did.

Needless to say, I had quite a lot of shit to sort through, and finally having the opportunity to roam Grimmauld freely, alone, without the risk of being bothered by the other inhabitants, who were all asleep in their beds, was a blessing.

I silently made my way downstairs, passing by the large empty frame where Mrs. Black's picture used to hang as I traveled through the darkened entryway. I went into the kitchen. By some stroke of luck or divine miracle, I ran across the clove cigarettes Bill confiscated from my bag. They were thrown into a dark wood cabinet with a defective lock on it. Also in the cabinet were several large, full bottles of firewhiskey, Ogden's best. I helped myself to one, and wandered outside, to sit beneath the stars, and smoke, and drink, and try to make sense of my life.

I didn't start smoking until after my mom died. She would've killed me if she knew, and I only smoked clove. I hated normal cigarettes. The smell of the cloves was exotic, and always brought me fond memories of exploring crowded, mysterious European and Asian cities with my mom.

I never used to be like I was then, angry, violent, mean. When they took her away, they took away the happy part of my soul, my innocence, my naivety. I used to laugh, and not have it be at other people's pain. I used to be able to smile without having it be cruel. I used to love life, the whole world.

And I really did _love_ the world. I didn't have a normal childhood because I moved around with my mom so much, and the world was my playground. Every new city, every new culture, every new discovery was exhilarating, and they took that away from me. After she died, I only wanted to kill those responsible, then die and be with her, with my mom and the world.

Distracted by my deep thoughts and lazy reminiscence, I drank an entire bottle of firewhiskey and smoked my whole pack of cloves almost without realizing it. I only did notice when I went for another cigarette and found that it was my last one. I tend to chain smoke when I'm thinking.

I was sprawled on a crumbling stone bench beneath one of the weeping willows, scowling at my empty box of Djarum Blacks, fumbling clumsily with my lighter, trying to light the one I was holding between my lips as the sun came up. The horizon suddenly ignited in deep, deep crimson, the warmth of the color and the sun's rays flooding over body, making me realize how cold I was. For hours the icy stone had been stealing my body heat through a thin cotton t-shirt and denim shorts, and I didn't care.

The back door slammed, and I heard footsteps approaching, so I forced myself to sit up, even though I wobbled and almost fell over. I had definitely drank way too much, and, though I didn't want to deal with whoever it was who was coming to talk to me, I couldn't have walked away if I tried.

"Hullo," But the voice was unfamiliar, "What are you doing out here all alone?" I turned around, fighting nausea and dizziness to look up into a broad, freckled face. It was another redhead, another Weasley, I decided. He was shorter than the rest, but still probably taller than me, muscular, stocky, tanned, smiling. Fucking smiling...

"Wutzit look like?" I slurred hostilely, extremely frustrated with my unfocused vision, and inability to light my last cigarette, not to mention that stupid smiling Weasley, who didn't look like he was getting the hint that I didn't want him around.

I broke a nail on my lighter, swore, and then took the cigarette out of my mouth so I could get another drink of firewhiskey. Once it was upside-down against my lips, however, the lack of alcohol burning a path down my throat made me remember that I'd already drunk the bottle dry. Pissed, I viciously hurled it against a knock-off Greek figure statue on the other side of the walkway. Broken glass exploded in all directions, and I nearly toppled right off the bench.

The pesky, unknown Weasley caught me before I could finish my face plant into the ground, cradling me in thick arms as he grunted, "Whoa! Take it easy!"

"Get off!" I growled in reply, putting up a halfhearted, uncoordinated fight as he gently replaced me upright on the bench. Once I got him away from me, I glared, then went back to struggling with my uncooperative, unusually tricky lighter.

"Djarums," He stated suddenly, making me glance up to realize that he'd picked up and was examining my empty cigarette box, "Nice, a girl with taste. Mind if I bum one?"

I grinned slyly, gesturing to the slender black stub between my fingers as I offered through muddled speech, "This is my last, but if you help me get the fucking thing lit, we can share."

"I'm always willing to come to the rescue of a damsel in distress," The mystery Weasley answered with a broad smile and a gallant, sweeping bow, holding out his hand for the lighter, which I inelegantly tossed to him before firmly grasping the cigarette between my index and middle fingers and putting it to my pursed lips.

He leaned in very close, effortlessly drawing a lick of flame from behind his thumb, making me glare even as I graciously leaned forward to accept the gift. I breathed in deeply, watching the black paper smolder and then ignite, watching blue eyes gleam and freckled skin pull with the force of a crooked, dimpled grin. Our faces were close, barely an inch apart, and neither of us moved for a few long moments. Rich tobacco and sweet clove hung thick between our locked gazes. The whole experience was surreal, more intoxicating than the firewhiskey in my system.

Eventually though, my burning lungs reminded me of my body's necessity for oxygen, and I let out the breath I was holding, slow and deep, allowing ambrosial smoke to flood from my mouth. I licked my dry lips, hyperaware of how close the man was, somehow calmed by how close he was, and whispered, "Thanks."

"My pleasure," He returned, his voice an octave lower than I remembered, husky and dark. His face lingered close to mine for another second, slowly drifting nearer before he abruptly pulled himself away. I took another drag, and watched him shake his head slightly, scratching the short, sun-bleached ginger hair on his head before taking a seat beside me on the bench.

"Leila," I declared briefly, handing over the cigarette to him, as promised, staring straight out in front of myself, watching more crimson light staining the dawn.

"Charlie," He returned, taking the smoldering black stick between his thumb and index finger, carelessly or purposefully letting his calloused palm briefly ghost against the back of my hand. I turned just in time to watch his full lips wrap around the black roll of paper, the red hot cherry on the tip flaring up, gleaming brightly with the same crimson from the sky as he took in a deep breath. My new companion closed his eyes and moaned deeply, a look of pure ecstasy passing over his freckled features. It made me smile.

We sat in silence until the cigarette was gone, indolently passing it back and forth as it very slowly burned away to a small stub that Charlie then flicked onto the ground where my other used up butts were lying. He leisurely ground it beneath the heel of his thick, mud-caked hiking boot, methodically smashing the flame into oblivion

"You look cold," He stated, staring right at me but not meeting my eyes, "Want to go in?"

"No," I slurred quietly, wrapping my arms around myself and fighting an involuntary shiver, "I hate it in there."

He chuckled, a warm, resonant sound that seemed to penetrate straight through my chest, and my buzz. "Everyone hates it in there," The redhead told me, "But we're all trapped, in one way or another."

"Pfft," Was my response, "My 'one way or another' happens to be a fucking force field."

"And Sirius' is being a fugitive," He listed off absentmindedly, "And Harry's is Voldemort, and Ron and Hermione's is Harry, and Bill's is Roo, and Remus' is-"

"Fuck Remus," I spat, not willing to hear anything about that particular person. Charlie shot me a calculating stare, then shrugged, and continued, "Anyways, we're all trapped one way or another. At least you can see the thing keeping you here. At least it's something you can touch every once in awhile, just to make sure it still exists, to know that you haven't been taken hostage by your own mind. At least it's not someone you love, and the only way you'll ever be free is if they die, and you hate yourself for even thinking it, for resenting them for keeping you here. At least it's not the guilt of knowing that if you ever left, just gave up and decided to be selfish for once, that the world would be pretty much doomed."

He paused, and I glared at him for making sense, "What's your point?" After giving me a sweet, sideways smile, he answered quietly, "Don't have one. Just thinking out loud."

"Whatever," I grumbled under my breath, still dizzy even though the crimson in the sky was fading to soft hues of pink and orange, bright and open.

Charlie sat for another few minutes, quietly watching the sunrise right along with me, then he stood abruptly, so fast that my head spun trying to keep up. Offering me his hand, he insisted, "Come on, let's get you in."

"I can do it myself," I growled in reply, shoving him away and struggling to my feet, "Don't need any help."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I stumbled over my own feet and nearly fell right on my arse. I'm such a graceful little blonde.

But Charlie caught me, laughing while he effortlessly hauled me back upright. He slung one of my arms around his wide shoulders, and put one of his arms around my slender waist, letting his large, rough hand rest lightly on my hip as he accused, "I think you do need some help, but just a little, and only because I'd feel right horrible if you fell and hurt yourself."

I glared, ready to shove him off, but he hugged me tight against his side, pouting as he begged charmingly, "Please, love? You're going to ruin my reputation as a perfect gentleman."

For some reason, the comment made me laugh, and I laid my head against his shoulder, conceding tiredly, "Well, I guess if it's for your reputation."

"Aw," He chuckled, grinning as he carefully supported me over the uneven cobblestone path that led towards the back door, "How sweet of you to allow me such a privilege."

"Just don't steer me into any walls, hot stuff," I threatened, giggling deliriously as I pressed my face into the soft material of his t-shirt.

"Never, love," He assured quietly, earnestly, his deep voice traveling over my body in gentle, soothing shockwaves, "You'll always be safe with me."

He smelled nice, like earth, and brimstone, and clove cigarettes, and I slowly breathed it in a few times, let him overwhelm my senses as I passed out in his strong, protective embrace.


	3. Part 3: Baby, Baby

Part 3 - Baby, Baby

The bad thing about getting drunk is that, eventually, you always get sober, and, for me at least, renewed sobriety usually includes a wicked bad hangover.

I woke up feeling a soft bed beneath me and an elephant sitting on my head. I thought someone had brought me back to my bedroom, and groaned, dreading opening my eyes because I knew as soon as the ugly mauve wallpaper assaulted my vision, I was going to be sick. It was always a struggle to keep from upchucking in that hideous room, but hung-over it was going to be damn near impossible.

Drinking an entire bottle of firewhiskey on my own may not have been such a genius idea.

I simultaneously rolled onto my side and brought my knees up to my chest, letting my arm flop freely as I tried to find some comfortable position so I could retreat back into unconsciousness.

My hand came down hard right on a large lump of warm flesh, which immediately flinched, and shouted, "OW! Bloody hell!" The weight on the mattress shifted, and then, "Oy, why do I get smacked in the head every time I try to do something nice?"

A little bit freaked by the odd voice in my bed, I cracked open one eyelid and found myself gazing up at a hazy red blur surrounded by a field of dark green. The blur moved, prodding me lightly and demanding groggily, "Budge over, love. This isn't my time zone, and I can get quite cranky without a proper fourteen hours of shut eye."

"Wha..." I grunted dumbly, too exhausted and dizzy to move, though I did manage to get my other eye to open and both of them to focus a bit more. A broad, freckled face swam into my vision, along with a warm, albeit tired smile, boyish, dimpled cheeks, a slightly crooked, probably from having been broken a few times in the past, nose, clear blue eyes, and a strong, square jaw covered in russet stubble, all topped off by a sun-bleached, ginger-colored buzz cut.

"Charlie," I stated flatly, reminding myself of the redhead's identity, recalling how I met him earlier that morning. He grinned, still sleepy, but clearly amused, and countered, "At your service."

I shot up, fighting nausea to glance around, finally noticing that I wasn't in my grotesque mauve jail cell. The room I was in was much nicer, although much, much, much smaller. It was barely a closet. The ceiling was low, giving sort of a cave-like feeling, and the small, short double bed I was sprawled on was the only piece of furniture, hardly leaving a foot between the dark wood frame and the dark green walls on all sides of it. One entire wall on my right side was a window with a small, cushioned seat attached, thick, earthy green curtains blocking most of the bright sunlight I could see streaming through a small gap in the fabric.

Movement from Charlie brought me back into reality, his stocky, shirtless body shaking the bed as he snuggled back down into his soft, patchwork quilt. "Sorry, love," He explained slowly, his eyes already drifting shut as he effortlessly tugged me back down beside him, "Didn't know which room was yours, and didn't think Mum would take too kindly to finding you passed out on the couch."

"Oh," I yawned, feeling my own eyelids drooping heavily as I nestled into a warm, tangled crater beneath the blankets, filled with a combination of the heat from our bodies that we were both taking advantage of, "Thanks."

"Quit fidgeting," He chuckled as I turned over again, turning away from him. He slung an arm around my waist and pulled me close, his bare chest pressing flush along my back. I felt him sigh against the my neck as he settled us both in, tucking the blankets around my shoulders and snaking his other arm under my neck to wrap around the very top of my chest, where my collarbones meet my throat. "There," He muttered, thick, slightly chapped lips brushing against the sensitive skin right at the nape of my neck, "Go back to sleep."

His body and bed were much too cozy to resist, and I dropped over very quickly after that.

xxXxx

We slept a few more hours before the twins barged in. Apparently, when Remus woke up and couldn't find me, he initiated a full on panic, complete with a manhunt.

"Maybe she wandered into Charlie's room?" I groggily registered voices from right outside the door, and groaned, burrowing back against the hard body behind me. His grip tightened comfortingly, but another voice responded, "Might as well check. Lupin's about to have a meltdown."

The door creaked open, light from the hallway flooding in, falling right across my closed eyes, and apparently Charlie's as well because he groaned, and shouted, "OY! Sleeping in here!"

"Oops," That's when I knew it was the twins. No one else had that 'I did it on accident, but still find it hilarious' giggle, "Sorry, mate. Didn't know you were back."

"Hey!" The other twin declared loudly. This time it was Charlie's turn to groan. I just clumsily pulled the blanket up over my head as I heard, "He's got a girl in there!"

"Really?" The first twin chuckled giddily, "Charles Nicodemus Weasley! You dog, you!"

"I swear to Merlin," Charlie growled hotly against my skin, "You two are dragon food if you don't get lost."

"Now, now," I was way too hung-over to even attempt keeping those identical gnats' voices straight, so stopped trying, "You don't have to be catty."

"Ya! We're just excited about meeting our dear, dear older brother's latest love interest!"

"Don't be rude, and introduce us to the lady!"

I mumbled some incoherent threat into my pillow, and Charlie laughed, "I think that means the _lady_ would rather sleep another few hours than deal with you two gits."

"OOO," A twin teased with a nearly hysterical giggle, "Tired her out then, did ya, mate?" The other one snickered, "Well, you do know our dear brother's stamina is legendary. Wood hardly shut up about how _long_ he could last. 'Charlie was in peak physical condition,' He said, 'Took his training very seriously, and had incredibly endurance. We were subjected to some rather grueling practices and games back when he was on the team, and at the end of 'em he would always still be going _strong._'"

"Jealous?" Charlie chuckled sarcastically, tightening the arm around my waist as he shifted and exhaled into my loose blonde hair. "Hmph," The twins replied in unison, "Hardly."

"Scram," My big squishy Weasley pillow ordered, "And tell Mum I'll be down in a few hours."

"Should we also tell her about your little _friend?_" They sniggered, barely getting the door closed behind themselves in time to avoid the muddy hiking boot Charlie hurled at them.

"Wankers," Charlie and I both grumbled under our breath as soon as they left. We paused, then started laughing as we settled back into the bed and both slipped off to sleep.

xxXxx

Charlie woke me up around noon, leaning over me and shaking me lightly as he cooed, "Leila, love, time to get up. You feel alright?"

"'M fine," I mumbled, yawning hugely and only plagued by a slight dull ache behind my eyes. I heard him laugh, "That's good. Less firewhiskey next time, eh?"

"Not likely," I replied, stretching, letting the quilt get tangled between my long legs. Again, he laughed, "Then I recommend a drinking buddy. It's less alcohol for you, and tons of pleasant conversation."

I opened my eyes, grinning when I found his face hovering above mine, and I teased, "You offering, hot stuff?"

His grin turned into a smirk, "It would be highly inappropriate of me to do that."

"I'll take that as a yes," I laughed, enjoying the easy banter between us, "Next time I break into the liquor cabinet, I'll be sure to give you a call."

"Honored, love," He joked, ruffling my hair, his face going slightly serious as it floated before mine. The ruffle turned into a tender stroke. He bit his lip, and mine unconsciously parted. We both exhaled at once, sickly sweet breath filling the air between us.

And then he shoved me out of his bed, laughing like a third grader as I hit the ground with a dull thud and swore at the top of my lungs. I glared up at him, spitting, "Arse."

"Sorry," He snickered, offering me his hand over the side of the mattress, "Couldn't resist." I rolled my eyes, pulling myself up without his help, steadying myself against the forest green wall.

"They're still looking for you," He informed me with a lazy grin, still shirtless, bulky, denim-clad legs folded over each other as he tucked his muscular arms behind his head, "I've been hearing stampedes pass outside the room for hours. Might want to think about letting 'em know you're alright."

I shrugged, kind of surprised Charlie hadn't already told them where I was, "Maybe." My eyes rolled over his prone form, and I smiled when I noticed a hint of red coming over the back of his shoulders. I poked him, demanding, "Hey, let me see the ink."

He smiled mockingly, "What's the magic words?" I arched an eyebrow at him, replying flatly, "Right fucking now."

"Bossy," He grumbled, still grinning as he turned over, revealing a broad red and gold dragon tattoo that spanned his entire back. It was a Chinese Fireball, also known as a Liondragon. The open, roaring mouth was situated where his spine crested just before it joined his neck, spitting flames that poured over the tops of his shoulders, ending right at his sharp collarbones and nicely-sculpted deltoids. The creature's spread wings encompassed both his shoulder blades, veined, rich-blooded membranes stretched between the crimson joints, and very real, razor sharp claws spread and drawn to look like they were digging into Charlie's flesh. Streaked in gold, the body curled serpent-like down the freckled man's back, ending in more claws, and a barbed tail that dipped below the waist of his jeans, peaking back up right where strong muscles dimpled the skin at the base of his spine, ending in a razor-sharp, pointed spade, a surprisingly endearing upside down heart. It was altogether stunning.

"Wow," I told him, idly letting my fingers skim along the colorful art, "Beautiful." He smirked at me over his shoulder, winking before rolling onto his back once more, "Why thank you. It's always nice to get compliments from pretty girls." I blushed, nodding stupidly, "Uh huh."

"Padfoot, if your evil house has hurt my daughter, I will personally see that it is burned to the ground!"

"Moony, if we don't find your little hellion soon, I think she might end up beating you to burning my evil house to the ground."

Hearing Remus and Sirius bickering just outside the door, I grinned evilly, a truly masterful plan racing through my mind. Charlie, apparently understanding the look, suddenly paled, and laughed nervously "Don't do it."

But I did. With my head held high and a cat-that-got-the-canary smile on my face, I pushed open the door, and strutted into the hallway.

Remus and Sirius were out there, and, after the moment it took for them to notice whose room I'd just wandered out of, looking disheveled and sly, both their mouths _dropped_. "Morning," I chirped sweetly, confidently pushing my way past the dumbstruck pair of men, inwardly laughing as I made my way to the bathroom and a long hot shower.

xxXxx

The water felt heavenly sliding over my body, elevating my already good mood.

"_Mmmm, mmm, you're so pretty. Not to talk to you would be a crime,_" I found myself singing softly to myself as I leisurely finished rinsing my hair, "_Ah, let me put my arms around you. I just wanna use up a little of your time._"

It was an sweet, slow, seventies punk love song that my mom always used to sing. I grew up with it, and it was like a warm blanket to wrap around myself whenever I felt myself missing her

"_And I'm goin', baby, baby, baby,_" I didn't understand it. I felt better than I had in years, but was still depressed, "_Baby, baby, baby._"

Maybe I was incapable of happiness now, I decided as I got out and wrapped a thick towel around myself, still humming softly, "_Baby, baby, baby, won't you be my girl?_" Ya, that was probably it.

"_Ah, your eyes are so pretty, and the clothes you wear, they're so fine,_" The thing I couldn't decide was whether or not that was a bad thing. Did I really want to be happy without my Mom? "_Hey, won't you come around to my place? I just wanna use up a little of your time._"

It didn't feel right for me to be able to enjoy my life when she died the way she did, "_And I'm goin', baby, baby, baby._" But it's not like I could stop myself from trying to have fun. As much as I missed her, as much as I didn't want to be happy without her, it happened every once in awhile and I couldn't stop it, "_Baby, baby, baby._"

I left my hair dripping wet and left the bathroom, singing the last of the song, "Baby, baby, baby, won't you be my girl?"

However, as soon as I stepped out, I stopped in my tracks. Bill's little daughter, her name was Arielle, but everyone called her Roo, was standing on the other side of the doorway, grinning sweetly up at me. "Uh..." I gaped, "Can I help you with something, pint-size?"

Little arms folded behind her back, she swung her one-and-a-half-year-old body freely back and forth, grinning as her pink cotton sundress swished around her spindly legs, "Ya! Sing the rest of the song!"

I laughed, stepping around her and making my way to my room, "Sorry, that was the end." I looked over my shoulder in time to see that she was following me, frowning thoughtfully. After a moment, she looked up again, grinning once more as she declared, "Well, you can sing it again!"

I stopped for a moment, glancing up and down the otherwise empty hall as I asked, "Shouldn't someone be, like, watching you? Where is everyone?"

She shrugged, listing off, "Daddy, and Mr. Lupin, and Mr. Black are all yelling at Uncle Charlie because he is a... um... oh, a _cradle robber_. I don't know whose cradle he could have robbed though. I was the only one with a cradle, but since I got to be a big girl, I sleep in a big girl bed now."

That made me crack up, but the little thing before me just kept talking, "Granny Molly was playing with me, but Grampy Arthur started a fire with his plugs, so she asked Auntie Ginny to watch me, but then Harry came and started kissing her, and they sent me up to find Hermione and Uncle Ron, but they were kissing, too. Uncle Fred and Uncle George are blowing stuff up in the attic, and said I was too little to play. The only other person I could think of to play with was Draco, and he's not very fun, but I heard you singing while I was trying to find him, so I stopped to listen, and it was really pretty, so will you sing some more?"

How could I say no that little pixie? She was like concentrated sunshine. It was almost sickening. "I suppose," I told her, continuing on the walk towards my room as she followed like a little red-gold duckling, "Let me put some clothes on first, ya?" A huge smile came over her face, dimpling her chubby, freckled cheeks as she jumped excitedly and yelled cutely, "YA!" Laughing, I quickly ran into my room and threw on a clean pair of jean shorts and a tight black tank top, then ran back outside, where Roo was waiting, still with that huge smile on her face.

"_Mmmm, mmm, you're so pretty. Not to talk to you would be a crime,_" I began with a grin, pleased that I was making the sweet little girl so happy just by doing something so simple, "_Ah, let me put my arms around you. I just wanna use up a little of your time._"

She laughed brightly, skipping and swinging her arms as she trailed behind me. I couldn't help myself; I laughed too, and started skipping along with her. It was just so... carefree, "_And I'm goin' baby, baby, baby._"

"_Baby, baby, baby,_" The girl contributed cheerfully, making my grin spread wider as we continued to skip lazily along the empty hall, adding myself, "_Baby, baby, baby, won't you be my girl?_"

She laughed, holding her arms out at her sides and twirling in circles. Because it felt better than anything I'd experienced in a rather long time, I did the same, throwing my head back and smiling as I sang, "_Ah, your eyes are so pretty, and the clothes you wear, they're so fine. Hey won't you come around to my place? I just wanna use up a little of your time. And I'm goin' baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, won't you be my girl?_"

"Where did you learn that song?" Remus' voice suddenly made me stop. He'd walked out of a doorway me and Roo had just past by, and was blocking Bill and Sirius from getting out of the room, which I realized was Charlie's. I felt a little guilty that I'd gotten him in trouble, but still rather amused by how the other men reacted, especially the _cradle robber_ accusation. Charlie couldn't have been that much older than me...

Scowling at Remus, I spat, "Not that it's any of _your_ business, but it was... my mom... She used to sing it to me all the time."

Despite the fact that I was glaring at him, a slow, ecstatic grin came over his face. "I... That was..." He stuttered, tripping over his words, "It was our song. I used to sing it to you when you were still inside your mother's stomach."

I felt like my heart ripped in half. "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING!" I shrieked, making Roo shrink back from me and start to cry silently from fright. It didn't matter. Remus took something very precious from me, and it hurt. One of the few happy memories I'd found solace in was tainted by its association to him. That song was supposed to be a special thing between my mom and me, not suddenly mean that she'd been subtly infusing his presence into our lives.

"What?" He asked, sounding just a little bit heartbroken as his face fell. Not even able to coherently express why I was so angry, I just gave a strangled, guttural shriek, punching out the glass of a framed landscape before turning and stomping away.

xxXxx

With my desire to kill my father renewed tenfold, I ran into the backyard. I found the biggest rock I could carry, and climbed one of the tall trees with it. Then I waited.

It only took Remus a half hour to wander outside, carefully following the cobblestone path that wound through the uncut grass until he was standing right beneath me. I tried to drop the rock onto his head.

Unfortunately, he effortlessly sidestepped my attempt, once again escaping death, and I swore loudly as the rock cracked in half upon impact with the ground.

"Leila," Remus said quietly, finally looking up, kind of giving me the impression that he'd known I was there all along and had purposely given me the shot at him, "What did I do wrong?"

"Let's start with existing," I snarled, glaring venomously into his yellowy-amber eyes. They looked just like mine, and I suddenly hated my body for imitating his.

He sighed, exhausted, and frustrated, and confused, "I don't want you to hate me. Please, I missed out on watching you grow up. Don't hate me on top of that."

"Pfft," I answered flippantly, looking away and leaning against the tree trunk as I stretched my legs out along the high branch on which I was seated, "It's a little late for me not to hate you."

"She got scared," He he stated as he sat down on the crumbling stone bench, right underneath where I was above in the tree, leaning back against the trunk, "I'm dangerous, and was doing dangerous work, and after you were born she got scared that you would get hurt. That's why she left. She didn't want you to have anything to do with the Order, or the war, or me."

"Shut up," I demanded, still trying to believe that it was Remus who left, that he abandoned us, and that it wasn't the other way around, "Mom wouldn't do something like that. She'd never run, or get scared, and she sure as _hell_ wouldn't lie to me. She was honest and brave."

He kept talking, acting like he didn't care whether or not I was listening even though he knew that I had to be, "I couldn't get her to come back, no matter how hard I tried. After awhile I gave up. Sneaking duty rosters from Gringotts just so I could know where in the world you were during any given month was as close as I would ever get to my wife and daughter, and, as much as it hurt, I had to accept that."

I wanted another rock to throw, to crush his skull so he couldn't unravel anymore of my life. I didn't want to hear that my mom had lied to me, but I hated being lied to far too much to just pretend it hadn't happened.

"When you and your mother disappeared in Zurich," The old man below me reminisced sadly, "It was just after Dumbledore had been killed, and I knew it was connected to me, to the Order. I was in hiding because Voldemort set the Moros after me, to neutralize me as a threat because of the work I'd been doing. I wanted to make sure you were alright, to warn you, so I left the safe house to find you."

He paused briefly, swallowing a lump in his throat before continuing in a much more haggard tone, "But I was too late. By the time I finally tracked you down, all the Moros were gone, and there was just a fresh mound of dirt beside the rundown shack. I dug you out with my bare hands, praying that you'd both still be alive. I couldn't save your mother, and I'm sorry for that because I did love her, and I know you did, too, but, Leila, I brought you back from the dead. It was an honest to god miracle. By all accounts, you shouldn't have survived."

Once more, he took a brief pause, and I found myself tense and apprehensive as I waited for him to continue. This was the part of the ordeal that I could never remember, as hard as I tried, and it was nice to finally know. "And then you ran away from the hospital, before I could even talk to you," He whispered, "You were gone again, and I had no way at all of finding you, or protecting you. I spent months worrying, wondering if you were cold, or lonely, or hurt, or scared, if you needed me."

With a chuckle, he ran blunt fingers through his graying blonde hair, "But then Moros started turning up dead, mercilessly slaughtered, really, and all evidence pointed to you. It was... difficult to think of you as a killer, but I understood, and at least I knew you could take care of yourself... I can't fault you your anger..."

I remained silent, no witty responses or clever insults coming to mind as I just let everything he told me sink in. It was... too much.

"I want to be your father," He stated suddenly, snapping me back into reality with the force and candor of the declaration, "I know you don't really need me, but... I need you. Your mother raised you to be strong, and smart, and independent, and all I want is a chance to know you... I've waited a long time for this chance, so I suppose I can wait a little longer. If you need time then take as much as you need, but please don't leave again still hating me."

He sat for another few moments there in the shade. It was a hot day, sweltering, unusually hot for mid-spring, but, with the branches of the weeping willow blocking out the sunlight, I felt cold.

"Tonight," He began once more, his voice cracking slightly on the first syllable, "Tonight I'm going to take you out. There's a place I think you need to visit." With a slight chuckle, he went on, "It was Charlie's suggestion, actually, after I almost strangled him when you walked out of his room."

I should've smiled, because it was a little funny, but I couldn't find the strength. "What makes you think I'd go anywhere with _you?_," I spat coldly.

Remus stood, ignoring my comment and not looking up at me, "Anyways, don't stay out here too long. Molly will want to feed you." And then he just walked away, walked back into the house and let the door slam shut behind himself.

I bit my lip to keep from crying, not trusting a single thing in my life, dreading whatever my father had planned for me that night. I somehow knew that it meant more of my life was going to crumble down around me.

xxXxx

Charlie was gone when I wandered inside a few hours later. Fred and George, unable to meet my eyes since they figured out that I had been the girl in their brother's bed, informed me that he had just been dropping off tactic and recognizance from Romania, reports on the state of the followers he was gathering for the Order amongst the dragon tamers and giants that lived in the mountains where he worked. I was a little ticked off that he hadn't said goodbye to me, and also that I couldn't ask him what he'd said to Remus to prompt the little field trip he'd planned.

But I wasn't too broken up. After all, I'd just met the guy. Nice as he was, it wasn't like we were bestest buddies or anything.

"Oh! Dear, you're hurt!" Mrs. Weasley declared suddenly as she set a small mountain of sandwiches in front of me. I hadn't noticed at all that my knuckles had been sliced open by the glass of the frame I punched, and, even though it had been drawn to my attention, I still didn't care.

"Hmm," I responded, not batting an eye as I picked up one of the thick triangles of stuffed bread on my plate, purposely using the bloody hand, "So I am."

The old woman scowled at my attitude, announcing, "Well, let me take a look. I'll fix you up." It was at that point that Harry walked into the kitchen.

As soon as he saw me, he froze, looking some combination of furious and terrified as he just stood in the doorway deciding whether or not to run. I noticed that he was wearing a turtleneck sweater, and, since it was such a swelteringly hot day and he looked flushed, and sweaty, assumed that it was to cover the cuts and bruises I'd inflicted on him the day before when I picked him up by the throat and slammed him against a wall.

I grinned wickedly as I got to my feet, maliciously knocking my shoulder against Harry's as I passed him, and taunting cruelly, "Aren't you hot in that jumper?" I was gone before he could respond, but I did hear the very beginning of Mrs. Weasley's tirade as she latched onto my suggestion, thoroughly interrogating the bespectacled youth about his health and well-being. Those people were just too easy.

In the small, ecru with black trim sitting room that I wandered into, Hermione and Draco were engaged in a shouting match over the top of the head of the house-elf that set the screaming portrait on me when I'd been trying to escape a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen the ugly little creature since that time, and he didn't look at all happy, muttering curses under his breath and weeping angrily while the argument went on above him. From what I'd heard, he was upset that I'd killed the old lady's portrait, and Hermione and Draco were most likely arguing over whether or not the little whelp was worth comforting.

"He's _just_ a house-elf! And an evil one at that! Let him suffer in peace! Maybe he'll finally just DIE!"

"That is a horrible thing to say! He is not evil, he is misguided, and that is not a reason for him to be in pain!"

With an eye roll, I tuned out of the conversation, and I kicked the damned house-elf as I passed by. Hermione protested shrilly, and I flipped her off without a word. Draco was on the floor in hysterics when I walked away a few seconds later.

The next room I wandered into was a dimly lit library all done up in deep purple and red tones, cluttered with squashy couches and armchairs.

Ron was seated in a far corner surrounded by a mountainous stack of literature, thick, dusty tomes that were a far cry from the only other things I'd seen him read: quidditch mags and a couple of muggle comic books he'd somehow gotten his hands on (Batman, so he had good taste). The poor boy didn't see me approach him; he was too busy groaning and bashing his head against the table he was sitting behind.

"Blow a fuse?" I taunted, making him jump as I threw myself down into the chair beside his, slamming both my feet up onto the desktop right on top of a pile of books and parchment. He looked freaked, and I just shot him a wide grin, waiting as he calmed down.

When he did, he chuckled uncomfortably, "Um... what's a fuse?"

"Never mind..." I laughed, reaching across to snatch away the book he was apparently frustrated and annoyed with, "Whacha doin'?"

He groaned, and then went back to smacking his head against the table as he muttered, "Research." Lazily, I inquired, "For?"

"For... er..." He kind of trailed off, eyes flitting about nervously, leading me to believe that I wasn't privilege to his project as he finished lamely, "Uh, a thing. Anyways, Hermione's making me do it because I was teasing of her for not being able to figure it out herself. It's not like I understand a single word though, and then I'll have wasted all this time and she'll end up even more ticked at me."

"Hmm," I hummed distractedly, looking over the book. It was collection of the genealogies of the Hogwarts founders, and it's no wonder that they were having trouble. A lot of it was in Latin, Greek, and Aramaic, some parts translated into symbols that you would only know if you've actually been instructed in how to read genealogies. Luckily, thanks to my cursebreaker training, I had been. Such knowledge is useful for tracking artifacts.

I read through some bits, absentmindedly twirling a stray lock of blonde hair around my fingers as I asked, "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Um..." He responded, rifling through the mess in front of him until he found a piece of scribbled on paper, reading, "'Living relatives of Rowena Ravenclaw who may own, or have knowledge of the location of any of her possessions.'" Scratching his head in confusion, he added, "At least that's what Hermione wants, but I can't figure out what any of those charts say."

"Well," I told him, still reading, "Good news, bad news time." He groaned, and slammed his head down on the table. I smirked and informed him, "The line of Ravenclaw's direct descendents died out about a hundred years ago, but she had several cousins who were related through marriage, so there are some possibilities if you trace them through present day."

"Oh, wicked," He stated happily, looking at me like I was Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all rolled into one, "And how do I do that?"

I smiled, handing the book back, "You have to find the complete version of this record. The one you have is only an overview. Like, a reference guide for the real one." He gaped at the four inch thick tome, swearing, "_This_ is the bloody _overview!_"

I laughed hard at his outraged expression, reaching up to playfully ruffle his shaggy red hair as I told him, "Yup. Get searchin'."

"It might take awhile, but can you stick around until I find it, and help me read it?" He asked hopefully as he jumped to his feet. I shot him a very pointed stare, arching an eyebrow as I responded flatly, "Ronnie, honey, I'm warded into the house. It's not like I can go anywhere."

That boy turned an absolutely adorable shade of deep pink, the color flushing all the way up to his hairline and even totally encompassing his rather large ears. "Right," He mumbled, sounding as embarrassed as he looked, "I knew that." He may have been a dullard, but he was really quite a sweetheart.

With a laugh, I grabbed a random book from the pile, losing myself in hours of light reading about the historical basis of Zoroastrian magic. Yes, I'm a nerd, but I picked up quite a few very useful spells I wanted to try as soon as I got my wand back.

Unfortunately, my nice relaxing afternoon of silence wasn't destined to last. The echoes of thundering footsteps heralded the arrival of Fred and George, who nearly knocked Ron off of the ladder he was on as they burst into the room. Before their younger brother, clinging desperately to the bookshelves, could even finish his string of furious curses, both twins started giggling madly and dove behind my chair. Lucky, lucky me...

"What are you idiots doing?" I hissed grumpily, not pleased that they were interrupting my reading. They shared a look, and then giggled again. One twin, I had no way of identifying which since they were dressed in matching magenta robes and each had a red tie fasted around his skull like a ninja headband, hissed quietly, "SHHH! We're hiding!"

"Merlin..." I groaned, exasperated, unable to believe that these two _men_, who were a whole year older than I was, could be so damned juvenile.

"Ready or not, here I come!" I suddenly understood what they were doing though as little Roo came running into the room, a wide smile on her face as she too ran into the ladder Ron was stood on, almost knocking him off once again.

"Uncle George! Uncle Fred!" She cried happily, skipping in erratic circles around the room, searching behind and under all the furniture and various stacks of books.

Then she finally noticed me, and stopped, cutely folding her arms behind her back, taking on that precocious little girl pose as she asked sweetly, "Leila, Do you know where Uncle Fred and Uncle George are?" It was impossible not to get infected by her adorableness.

I smiled, and laughed, "Are you playing hide-and-go-seek?" She grinned, and nodded vigorously, making me laugh again as I mock scolded, "Well, if you're playing a game, wouldn't it be cheating if I told you where they are?"

Behind me, I could hear the twins shushing each other and stifling giggles, but Roo didn't seem to notice. She bit her lip, looking extremely guilty even as she begged, "_Pleeeeeeaaaassseee?_ I never win! And they said if I find them, they'll let me play when they blow stuff up next time! I bet they'd let you play, too! I heard them talking before, and they were saying how much they like you!"

In an instant, the snickering behind me completely stopped. The twins' sudden silence had me intrigued. "Really?" I asked Roo, leaning forward conspiratorially, but making sure that the two redheads hiding behind my chair could still hear every word, "What exactly did they say?"

"Um..." She started slowly, looking suspiciously like she was stalling on purpose, the devious little thing. She grabbed the hem of her cute pink sundress, her gaze upwards like she was thinking hard as she recited, "They said that you are a _stone cold fox_, and that you are really _hot when you go all psycho_, and that they bet you are a total _freak in the sack_, and that they want to make a _Weasley twin sandwich_ out of you. Uncle Fred and Uncle George are really, _really_ bad at cooking though, so don't let them make you a sandwich. You'll get sick. This one time, they gave Uncle Ron a sandwich that they made, and he got sick. Remember that, Uncle Ron?"

My mouth was hanging wide open in shock, but, almost trance-like, I turned to Ron as Roo did, only to find that he was laughing so hard that he was about to fall off the ladder he was still perched on. And then he did fall off, and was on the floor with his hysterical laughter.

"Oh no! Uncle Ron!" Roo shouted, running straight for the twitching youth, "Are you ok! Did you get a booboo!"

While she tended to him, I snapped myself out of the shocked stupor I was in, standing abruptly and rounding on the pair of redheads who were cowering side by side behind my chair. Even though they did look slightly fearful, they didn't seem _nearly_ as embarrassed as they should have been after what was just revealed to me. Both had crooked grins on their faces, faint blushes high on their freckled cheeks and tips of their ears.

"Roo," I commanded, trying to hold back from laughing at the whole situation, "Why don't you take Ron to your granny so she can fix his booboos, ok?"

"Ok," She chirped sweetly in reply, grabbing her uncle by the arm and hauling him to his feet. He was still cracking up and she really shouldn't have been able to lift him like that, but I thought nothing of it as she scolded dotingly, "Come on, Uncle Ron! We have to take you to Granny to make sure you didn't break your head!"

As soon as she was gone, Fred and George popped upright from behind the chair. I got up off it, standing to my measly full height of 5'3" and crossing my arms over my chest as I stared them down.

The completely identical brothers shared cheeky, nervous, yet somehow infuriatingly confident looks, then turned my way. "Just for the record," The twin on the right informed me, "We were planning a very elaborate and romantic seduction."

"Ya," The other one added, "Flowers, candy, fine wine, silk sheets, but now that our plan has been spoiled, we'll just get right to the point."

They shot me mirror-image sexy faces, than asked one after the other, "What do you say to doubling your pleasure?", "Doubling your fun?"

It was just _way_ too hilarious. I knew I should've been mad, or insulted, but it was just so... ridiculous! "HAHAHA!" I cracked up, doubling over and holding my sides, shouting between gales of laughter, "HELL NO!"

They both frowned, turning to each other and nodding before breaking ranks to circle around me. "Come on, gorgeous," The one who had moved to hug me from behind cooed silkily. The other one, standing in front of me, very slowly tucking a lock of blond hair behind my ear, smiled widely and made his bushy ginger eyebrows waggle up and down as he added, "You know you want us."

"BWAHAHAHAHA!" A new wave of hilarity crashed down, and the twin with his arms around me from behind suddenly found himself having to keep me from falling over.

I was finally coherent again a few minutes later, wiping tears of laughter off my face, still giggling quite deliriously as I tried to catch my breath. It had to have been the most I'd laughed since arriving at Grimmauld, and it was like a flood gate had opened. "You know," I heard from one twin, his voice teasing, "If we weren't so secure in the awesome power of our raw animal magnetism, we might have taken all that uncontrollable laughter as a bad sign." The other, the one still holding me up, put his lips up to my ear and added softly, "Too true, Gred. It's a good thing that we know we're absolutely irresistible."

And then there was a tongue in my ear. The other one took my momentary shock as the opportunity to grab my boobs.

And then I had to give them matching black eyes. Fortunately, I did remember to hit them on opposite sides, so I'd have a way of telling them apart for at least a little while (I dubbed the one with his left eye bruised Fred, and George the right). But I decided to go easy on them and not do anything besides that. They may have copped a feel, but they made me laugh, so I forgave them. They obviously have no self control.

I was standing over the pair of them, giggling madly as they nursed their injuries, when I heard a voice from the doorway inquire, "What's going on in here?" Turning around, I found that it was Bill, eyeing the whole scene with mixed suspicion and amusement.

With a grin, I informed him, "Just giving Tweedle-dumbarse and Tweedle-dumberarse a lesson in dealing with the fairer sex." Seeming to instantly catch on, the tall man's face broke out into an extremely entertained smile, and he snorted, "Ya, I'll bet. Remus wants to see you, love. He said you'll need a coat, because he's taking you somewhere."

I scowled harshly, "I'm not going anywhere with _him_." Bill chuckled, "I don't recall having given you a choice in the matter." He turned and strolled out, calling over his shoulder, "You'd better be at the front door in ten minutes, or else next time I have to lock you in your room, I'll lock the twins in with you."

"LOW BLOW!" I shouted, grumbling other various, colorful swears under my breath as I followed him out.

xxXxx

I strolled defiantly into the entry way exactly seventeen minutes later, rather unhappy about being ordered around, not to mention having to go anywhere with Remus. Along with my lateness, I decided to forgo the coat as a form of rebellion. That turned out to be sort of a bad idea...

Anyways, Remus was near the front door, and he didn't notice me at first, as he was having a very hushed, heated conversation with that pink-haired chick, Tonks. They were arguing. As usual, Remus was just looking exhausted and frustrated, but Tonks was totally pissed. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but didn't really think too much about it at the time. After all, there was the chance that someone else _finally_ found Remus as infuriating as I did, and that was a good thing.

"It's dangerous," I finally heard Tonks hiss when I got close enough. Remus shook his head, arguing, "No, it's not. We'll be fine."

The woman glared at him, "It's extremely dangerous, and you know it! If you're spotted both your lives are in jeopardy! Plus, what if she decides she's going to try to kill you again! I'm coming!"

"No!" Remus snapped in reply, finally showing a small spark of annoyance and anger, "I already told you, this is something I have to do alone with Leila."

"Oh, great," I finally cut in, my voice bitterly sarcastic, "And me without my pepper spray." Both of them instantly turned in my direction, their expressions suddenly blank, though slightly guilty.

"Hello, Leila," Remus finally responded, smiling weakly, "Are you ready to go? You should really get a coat. It'll be cold where we're headed." I stared him down, "No, I'm good. Let's just get this over with."

Stoically, he nodded, "Alright, if that's what you want. Come on." He turned and walked out the door, leaving Tonks fuming in the entryway. Chuckling, I followed out into the late afternoon sunshine.

"Hey, genius," I called, jogging to keep up with his long strides, "You warded me into this crap-hole, remember? Don't you think you should undo those before I get zapped again?" He stopped right before the point I discovered during my last escape attempt was where the force field was, and he held out a small silver bracelet.

"This will allow you to walk through it," He told me tiredly, "But only with me, and you won't be able to run away, so please don't try or you'll just hurt yourself again."

Short-temperedly, I snatched the little piece of jewelry away from him, spitting, "So, it's like a _leash_ then." He sighed, "Leila, please. This is important."

After just glaring for a few minutes, I finally groaned, attempting to secure the bracelet on my left wrist as I grumbled, "Fine. At least I get out of that damned house..." I hate clasps. I can kill a hundred Death Eaters, do back flips, read cuneiform and decipher heiroglyphics, for Merlin's sake! And I can't fasten a bracelet. Those things are pure evil.

"Here, let me help," Remus suddenly offered, his voice quiet. His hands came up and effortlessly snapped the little pieces of metal together before I even had a chance to tell him I didn't want his fucking help. The silver glowed faint blue for a split second and I could feel magic pulling at me, flooding over my body before the metal returned to its normal appearance. When the shimmer was gone, I looked up to find that Remus was smiling slightly.

Furious, I shoved him away from me, warning, "Don't ever fucking touch me again." I didn't wait around to see his reaction, just turning and walking onto the street for the first time in two weeks.

xxXxx

We didn't go right to his intended destination. Instead, Remus led me on a short walk into the quiet little muggle town that Gimmauld was located on the outskirts of. Our pace was brisk, and neither of us said a single word.

Once we were finally in the town though, I found opportunity to test just how well my leash actually worked. Unfortunately, it worked very well. I couldn't unfasten it, and any time I got more than a few yards away from Remus, I would feel a slight tug on my wrist pulling me back to him. If I had run, I probably would've gotten leveled again, so decided not to.

I followed him into a small corner store, where he finally turned to me and said kindly, "It'll just be a quick stop. Is there anything you want while we're here?" I just glared, remarking, "Cigarettes and vodka would be nice."

He frowned, looking very upset, and responded with a curt, "No." He bought three large bars of Cadbury's chocolate and a big bouquet of flowers. Had I been paying more attention, I might have noticed that he'd gotten my mom's favorites: white lily of the valleys, and pink and orange gerbera daisies.

After giving one chocolate bar to me to munch on, opening and taking a bite out of one himself, and tucking the third into a pocket inside his robes, he led me out of the store and into a secluded alleyway. "We'll be taking a portkey," He informed me, his tone rather business-like as he produced a brown leather book. It was small, with gold gilding on the edges of the pages, and an intricate, crisscrossing gold pattern etched into the cover. It was pretty, and the nerd in me kind of wanted to read it, but as soon as I touched the worn leather Remus pressed something in the design, and were both whisked away.

xxXxx

It was fucking _freezing_ where we landed. I know Remus said cold, but I was expecting maybe a bit nippy, not full on if-I-had-balls-they'd-be-ice-cubes cold.

"H-Holy s-shit!" I shivered, hugging my arms, and rubbing my bare legs together to try to generate some warmth, "Where the f-fuck are we!"

Remus chuckled dryly, pulling his own thick cloak tighter around his thin body as he responded, "Torres del Paine."

" CHILE!" I shouted, gaping at him as I whipped my head around to see the snow covered mountains that surrounded the blue glacial lake we were beside, "YOU BROUGHT ME TO _SOUTH AMERICA!_ IT'S FUCKING WINTER HERE, YOU IDIOT!"

I was quite pissed, even more so when he shrugged, and stated flatly, "I told you it would be cold."

"YOU SAID _COLD_, NOT _CHILE_" I shouted, my voice echoing through the snowy, uninhabited wilderness, "IT'S LIKE FIFTY DEGREES FROM THE _SOUTH POLE!_ THERE ARE _GLACIERS_ HERE! WHY THE HELL ARE WE IN CHILE!"

"Because," He informed me, his tone quite a sharp contrast to mine. Where I was loud, he was quiet. Where I was hysterical, he was calm, "This is where your mother's grave is."

Time seemed to stand still, and, hard as I tried, I couldn't quite comprehend what he'd just said to me. It was turning over and over in my mind, but not sinking in at all. Some time later, I finally forced out, "W-What?"

He nodded to a smooth, polished surface in the granite rock face that the shores of the lake shot up into, informing me sadly, "Right over there. She left a will, and it's what she wanted. I just thought you needed to come here, to grieve and let go of your hatred."

I still didn't believe it, standing shock-still as my body started to go numb from the cold. Slowly, dumbly, almost in a trance, I kept turning between Remus and the rock face, where I could see an inscription was carved right into the granite mountainside. I didn't know what to do.

"Go on, then," He encouraged, handing me the bouquet of flowers, as well as another chocolate bar. It seems like a silly thing to lay on a grave, but my mom loved chocolate, and I suddenly didn't hate Remus quite as much for remembering that about her.

I understood why he'd bought the flowers, too, nearly strangling them as I focused on just making it to the inscription without fainting, or crying. The gravel on the lake shore crunched loudly beneath my feet, reverberating off the ray of sunlight that fell directly on the spot where my mom's body was buried. I fell to my knees, the flowers and candy falling out of my hands as I read the words etched into the stone, then promptly burst into tears...

_To One in Paradise: _

_  
Thou wast all that to me, love,  
For which my soul did pine-  
A green isle in the sea, love,  
A fountain and a shrine,  
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,  
And all the flowers were mine. _

Ah, dream too bright to last!  
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise  
But to be overcast!  
A voice from out the Future cries,  
"On! on!"- but o'er the Past  
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies  
Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! me  
The light of Life is o'er!  
"No more- no more- no more-"  
(Such language holds the solemn sea  
To the sands upon the shore)  
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree  
Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,  
And all my nightly dreams  
Are where thy grey eye glances,  
And where thy footstep gleams-  
In what ethereal dances,  
By what eternal streams.  
-Edgar Allan Poe, 1834

here lies the body of  
Sidra Eve Kione  
failed wife, flawed mother, fierce guardian angel

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

hello peoples. hope you all are liking this so far, and i would love some review hintnudgehint hehe, anyways, the song lyrics are from the Vibrators song Baby, Baby, and i'll try not to make a habit of throwing in lyrics ;D


	4. Part 4: A Poison?

Part 4 - A Poison?

Cursebreaker is a very dangerous profession. Everyone hears about how they're required to be almost foolishly brave, and insanely smart, having to achieve Outstanding OWL's in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Charms, but what never seems to get very much press is that they're also required to keep regularly updated wills. Cursebreakers have a nasty habit of dying young.

My mom had a will. She was only thirty-eight-years-old when she died, hardly the age to be prepared for such an eventuality, but she was nonetheless.

She picked out where she wanted to be buried, on the banks of a brilliant glacial pool beneath a soaring granite rock face in the Torres del Paine mountains of Chile. She even wrote out the exact description she wanted on her headstone, an Edgar Allan Poe poem (I remember joking with her that Edgar Allan Poe wrote Edgar Allan Poems. Stupid, I know, but it was just a special thing between us).

She also left a book. She left it to me. She made it into a portkey that went to the spot she wanted to be buried. The book itself was sort of a journal. It had entries going as far back as her days at Hogwarts, detailed narrations of important events in her life, but mostly just her favorite quotes and poems, painstakingly recorded in her long, elegant script.

The first time I read the book was just after Remus managed to drag me away from my mom's grave. He'd taken me there, and I'd collapsed on top of it, just sobbing for hours. With all my thoughts of vengeance, I guess I never really had a chance to grieve properly, and putting it off for two years had only made it worse.

He forced me to leave because he said my skin was starting to turn blue, and I was shivering uncontrollably. I'd been difficult and rebellious and not dressed warmly like he told me to (_because_ he'd told me to, actually). A tank top and shorts are definitely not proper attire for a Chilean winter.

We arrived in the middle of the street in front of Grimmauld place, Remus having side-apparated with me since I was too distraught to do it myself, not to mention I really hadn't wanted to leave. In fact, I was struggling quite wildly.

"Let go!" I sobbed, fighting the arms around me as he carried me back towards the house. He'd wrapped me in his cloak to warm me up, and I was too tangled in it to escape him, not to mention I could hardly see or breathe from the amount of crying I'd done.

"S-Stop!" I shouted, "Let me go! I want to go back! I want to stay with her!" I could feel Remus sigh against me, his thin chest rising and falling, his warm breath stirring my disheveled blonde hair. "You can't stay there," He told me quietly, carrying me into the front yard and reactivating the wards that were keeping me trapped on the grounds, "She wouldn't have wanted you to waste away missing her."

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW!" I shrieked, twisting, and squirming, and finally getting him to drop me after I elbowed him in the head and stomach. My knees grated painfully against the walkway when I slammed down on them, scraping open and staining the rough stones with blood. I couldn't find the strength or desire to get up again, just swiping at my eyes with grimy hands, and whimpering angrily, "How do you know what she wanted! You were never there! You didn't know her at all!"

"Because," He replied after a long pause that was filled with my sobbing. He sounded hurt, and lost, "Because she said that's not what she wanted."

I looked up to yell at him again, to ask if he could communicate with the dead now, but he was holding out the book that we'd used as a portkey. It was worn brown leather, with an intricate, gold crisscrossing pattern inlaid on the cover, and gold gilding on the edges of its pages. "Here," He said sadly, "She left it to you. Her will said you should get it when she died. There's a letter to you on the first page."

I snatched the book away from him, hurriedly opening it as I growled, "And you just went ahead and read it, did you!" I was pissed, but only had the energy to be pissed for about two seconds. Then I looked down into a page full of my mom's familiar, elegant writing, and broke down crying again, barely able to make it through the length of the letter before I totally lost it.

I've only ever managed to read it that one time. It hurts too much to do again, and every time I've tried, I've only ended up a blubbering mess after the first few sentences. Basically, everything Remus claimed about how she left him was true. She was sorry she never told me, and said if I ever needed anything he was the one to go to, and not to be too sad without her, and just lots of stuff like that.

By the time I got to 'Love Always, Mom,' I was a completely incoherent wreck, crying, and cursing, and still on my knees on the ground, still shivering from the cold at her gravesite despite the fact that it was hot and sunny there in front of the Grimmauld mansion. The whole situation was too real, too much to handle...

Vaguely, I registered Remus sitting down beside me, pulling me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me, rocking me and humming as he shushed me softly. The side of me that was still angry as hell at that man was telling me to take the opportunity to kill him. It was the perfect chance. I was close, and he wouldn't see it coming. However, the scared, hurting little girl inside me just wanted someone to hold her like that, to give love, and comfort, so I couldn't do it.

I exhausted myself crying into his arms, for the first time in my life finally knowing what it was like to have a real father.

xxXxx

I was a mess after that. Rock bottom doesn't even cover it. Imagine hitting rock bottom, then breaking and bloodying all your fingernails digging yourself down another few hundred feet, and that barely describes how I felt.

I couldn't get out of bed, deep, dark depression making me feel physically ill. I refused to eat, just cried and slept all the time, and kept hugging my mom's journal, like if I hugged it hard enough, it would turn into her and hug me back. Even that pleasant delusion didn't make me feel any better.

The first few days, no one was that concerned. I heard Remus talking to Sirius just outside my room, telling him that I just needed time to get over the grief and shock, that I delayed mourning my mom so now it was going to be very hard for me to deal with. They all left me mostly alone.

After two weeks, though, I could tell the inhabitants of Twelve Grimmauld Place were quickly growing concerned. Remus sat with me a lot, not seeming to mind that I never talked to him as he just petted my hair and tried to say kind, reassuring things. But then he disappeared for a few days, as did Bill and Roo, who had also taken to checking up on me every once in awhile. As distraught as I was, I wouldn't even have noticed that they were gone if it hadn't been for the twins.

They bounced into my room one morning with big smiles on their faces. Still unable to tell them apart, I found myself incredibly frustrated when one of them ripped open my curtains and I realized I would probably never figure out which one had done it, so I wouldn't know which one to beat up later.

"Morning, kitten," The non-curtain twin chimed happily as he flopped beside me into the bed, setting a tray of food on my nightstand as he inquired, "Hungry?"

I didn't answer, rolling away from him onto my side, and curling into a little ball as I hid my face in the pillow I was strangling. "Aw, come on, sweetpea, you gotta eat something," The curtain twin laughed as he too crawled into bed beside me, trying to pry the pillow away, "You gotta keep your strength up so you have the energy to agree to be our girlfriend."

"Ya," His brother beamed, joking, yet still sounding smugly proud of himself as he rested his squared chin on my shoulder and one hand on my hip, squeezing lightly through many thick blankets, "But mostly just for _after_ you agree to be our girlfriend. We've been known to give quite the workout."

I didn't even have the energy to shove him off. They were asking me to date the both of them at the same time, but, more than that, they seemed sure that not only would I agree, but I would also have sex with them. I'm definitely not that kind of girl, and should've been furious that they suggested I was, but the way they were squirming around in my bed, neither seeming to possess the ability to not fidget for even the smallest length of time, reminded me of my mom.

She used to be the same way, barely able to sit still, always full of life and energy, always ready for a new adventure, even if it was just a run around the block.

I started thinking about her, how still her body must be inside her coffin, how she'd hate the idea of never being able to move for the rest of forever. She was dead, and I thought about how she would never again be able to randomly climb to the top of a brick wall as we were walking down a street, or jump through puddles during a rain storm, or link her arm with mine and sing "We're Off to See the Wizard" as we went into Gringotts to visit her boss. All those fun, amazing things I loved about my mom were gone, and would never come back. I lost a big part of myself with her, more than I even realized.

The ache in my chest that had been there since she died had grown much stronger in the past weeks. Before, I could mostly ignore it, but now it was so intense that it hurt, a tight, constricting, stabbing pain that brought tears to my eyes whether I wanted them there or not. Only those who know real grief will ever be able to understand that kind of agony. I whimpered softly, clutching at my heart and pressing my face harder into the pillow.

"So, what do you say to us sneaking you out for lunch?" The twin in front of me, the one who pulled the curtains, asked brightly. With a laugh, his brother added, "Anywhere you wanna go. Come on, it'll be fun. You should really get out of this room... the color is a bit painful."

They paused to hear my answer (though they didn't sit still), and the silence finally made my stifled sobs audible. I could immediately sense them tense up, evidently disturbed that I was crying.

"Hey, angel," The curtain twin cooed, brushing hair off my cheek and gently prodding me to pick my head up out of the pillow. Reluctantly, I did, only to be met with a round, freckled face full of concern. I sniffled pitifully, hating that I was such a weak, blubbering mess, and unable to do a damn thing about it.

"Don't cry," The other twin commanded softly, cuddling closer and throwing his arms around me for a reassuring squeeze, "We were just joking around. We're sorry."

"Ya," Curtain added, holding my face in both hands, brushing away tears from my swollen, yellowy-amber eyes with his thick, stubby thumbs, "We were just trying to cheer you up with a laugh."

I hiccupped, and coughed, and tore away from his intense blue gaze, throwing myself back into the bed, letting my body began to shake violently as I returned to uncontrollable weeping once again.

I expected the twins to leave, to just let me be alone with my grief, but they didn't. They stayed, wordlessly curling up on either side of my body and wrapping their arms tightly around me, holding me while I just let go.

xxXxx

"Where's Remus?" It took me almost half the day to calm down, and that was the first thing I asked when I had. I felt like shit, exhausted, and achey all over, and I just wanted to close my eyes and never open them again.

The twin sitting cross-legged behind me, the one who was making me shiver by lightly drawing designs on the exposed skin of my lower back, who I'd been led to believe was Fred from faint shadow of a bruise I'd given him around his left eye, leaned over my face, smiling softly as he teased, "Why? Looking to have another go at him?"

"You should be careful with that old dog," George added, lightly toying with my hair while my head rested against his chest where he'd placed it, "He's quite advanced in years, and can't quite keep up with a young pup like you, especially when you're trying to kill him."

It was a valiant effort at getting a laugh out of the situation, but I really didn't have one in me. I shut my eyes, more tears leaking from them as my arms tightened around George, and I sputtered helplessly, "I... I just wanted to know where he went."

"Oh, of course, Peaches," George soothed, "We know. We didn't mean anything by it." I felt Fred move his light tracing higher on my back as he offered, "Don't worry about Lupin. Him, and Bill, and Roo are all laid up for a few days on account of the moon."

I was a bit confused, furrowing my eyebrows as I asked, "Moon? What?"

I felt both twins tense again, remaining silent for a few moments before Fred swore under his breath, "Shit. She doesn't know yet."

"Know what?" I inquired weakly, curious, but too tired to put very much effort into said curiosity. George squirmed a bit beneath me, going back to petting my hair as he soothed dismissively, "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll find out eventually."

Normally, I probably would've pinned him face down into the bed, twisted his arm behind his back, and threatened to break it unless he told me. At that time though, I couldn't find the willpower, and merely curled up on George's chest, letting his steady heartbeat put me into a fitful sleep.

xxXxx

More days and weeks passed. Remus came back, looking haggard and tired, as did Bill and Roo. The twins spent a lot more time curled up on either side of me, trying to get me to cheer up, but I was far past their skills, and that is really saying something because those two could probably make Hitler crap himself laughing.

I don't think Remus liked them hanging out with me though. They were always hugging me, and touching me, and calling me sweet little nicknames, and Remus would just sit and glare silently until they had to leave to go to work. Only when they were gone would he finally relax.

Bill and Roo liked laying in my bed with me, too. Bill tried to get me to talk to him about cursebreaker stuff. Apparently, he had met my mom on a few occasions, though the few times he tried to talk to me about when and how I immediately broke down again. Roo just chattered on about anything and everything as she crawled around on top of me, and played with my hair. I guess she liked it because it was long and blonde.

"Daddy," I woke up one afternoon about a month and a half into my depression to find that Bill and Roo had arrived while I'd been asleep. My eyes weren't open, but I somehow knew it was just the two of them, that Remus and the twins weren't in the room.

"Yes, love?" I heard Bill answer, feeling him shift beside me in the big bed as he turned the pages in what sounded like a newspaper. Roo was seated beside my head, her swift little fingers combing knots out of my hair as she asked, "Why is Leila sad?"

I remember thinking that I should just write a book on the subject so people would stop fucking asking. Cynical, I know, but that's just my way.

With a deep sigh, Bill lowered the newspaper, pausing before he answered quietly, "Because she misses her mummy, love."

"Oh," The little girl chirped, already beginning to swiftly and expertly braid my long hair. After another moment of silence, she pressed, "Did her mummy go away like mine did?" Still pretending to be asleep, I felt tears come to my closed eyes, soaking into my already wet pillow. I wasn't quite sure if they were for me, or poor, motherless Roo, but they were there, and hurt all the same.

Bill sounded like he was in pain as well when he answered softly, "No, Leila's mummy went to Heaven to be with the angels." That comment certainly didn't help me.

The little fingers on my scalp were sending shivers all down my spine, but I refused to let myself wake. I didn't want to have to deal with being awake. "How come?" I heard Roo demand petulantly, "How come she wanted to be with the angels more than Leila?" Good fucking question... let's see what Professor Chewtoy had to say about that one...

"She didn't," The little girl's father informed her gently, "Leila's mummy wanted to stay with Leila forever, but she got very hurt, and had to go be with the angels so they could take care of her." Have I ever mentioned that I hate cheerful euphemisms for rape, torture, and murder? Well, I do, and that was one of the sappiest ones I'd ever heard!

"Will she ever come back?" Roo asked quietly, pausing her work in my hair as she finished the braid. She spent a few moments admiring her work, then began to undo it. I could hear Bill sigh again, explaining, "No, love. She has to stay with the angels. That's her home now." Fuck. I wanted to scream. "But how come?" The girl demanded. I'd had enough.

"Because she's fucking _DEAD!_" I shouted, clumsily forcing my tired body up out of bed. After grabbing my mom's book, I stomped out of there, leaving the shocked pair staring after me, their wide, matching blue eyes clashing horribly with the hideous mauve paint on the walls.

xxXxx

I hid out in Charlie's room, because it was the only one that was uninhabited, and safe, and had a color scheme that was not horribly offensive to the optical senses. It was three days before anyone found me, and even then it was completely by accident.

I was awake, seeming to have saturated my body with sleep so much that by that point it was refusing to do anymore. It was alright. The sleep was a good escape from reality, but a lot of times the evil, terrifying dream world my subconscious created for me was far worse.

I was curled up on my side in the bed, turned away from the door, towards the window. The sun was coming up, bringing a red glow of light to the crack in between the heavy, dark green curtains. I hadn't opened them since I'd been in the room, so it had been awhile since I got any light. When the other people in the house were looking after me, they always tried to keep my room bright and sunny for at least part of the day. Now that I was on my own, I didn't have to bother with that bullshit.

I was angry, and it was complicated. I was furious at my mom for lying to me about Remus, for eighteen years of hating my father just because she was too much of a coward to admit that she'd left him. But then I was disgusted with myself with being furious at her, because she was dead, and I loved her too much to resent her like that. And Remus himself, I had no idea what to do about him. Did I still hate him? He hadn't actually left us, but what happened to my mom was still his fault! He's the one who pissed off the Death Eaters, and he's the reason that they came for us! Could I actually _forgive_ something like that? Did I want a relationship with him?

Ugh, like I said, _complicated._

So, I was definitely in my own little universe. That's probably why I didn't hear the door open, or close, or clothes being shed as a person moved about in the tiny room. I only finally realized that someone else was there when he collapsed right on top of me.

"What the..." A startled voice yelped as I whimpered and tried to squirm out from under the hard body squishing mine. Once he rolled off of me, I turned, glancing up through tears at Charlie Weasley's confused face. Apparently, he was back.

"Er..." He began, shirtless, scratching at his closely cropped ginger hair, "Hello... What are you doing in my bed?"

I sobbed a completely hysterical, incoherent response, which, thankfully, he only let me carry on with for a moment or two before cutting in, "Whoa, calm down. Take a breath, love."

"I-I'm sorry," I managed to stutter a few shallow gulps of air later, "I just h-had to get away. I'll leave if you want me to..."

He smiled softly, making me notice that he had a thick white bandage wrapped around his left bicep as he reached down to wipe a tear off my cheek, and said sleepily, "And why would I want you to do that? There are definitely worse things than coming home after an exhausting journey to find a pretty girl in your bed."

I knew it was a joke, because he winked playfully, but I was still in no mood to laugh. With his permission to remain, I curled up on my side again, going back to staring at the crack in the curtains. The mattress shifted as he lay down and put his arms around my body, pulling me tightly against his broad chest.

"Don't cry," He instructed tenderly, tucking my head beneath his chin as he cuddled up behind me, wrapping his body around mine, "It'll be ok."

"You don't know that," I whispered, going for oppositional, but only pulling off pathetic. Utterly disgusted with myself, I just tried not to let my sobs shake the bed too much.

"Yes, I do," Charlie insisted, holding me tighter. His measured, deep breathing was almost hypnotic, and, without realizing it, I gradually calmed down enough to slow my own to match his pace. It was soothing, and, despite my earlier restlessness, I could feel my eyelids closing.

And then Charlie started to hum, a deep, tuneless melody that should've been odd coming from such a rugged, manly man, but just... fit.

That sweet, sad, slow little lullaby gently eased me into a peaceful slumber.

xxXxx

I woke up to find that the curtains had been opened, and Charlie was gone. Shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight pouring in, I sat up, and groggily looked around the small room.

After a few minutes, I started hearing muffled, unintelligible voices coming from the other side of the closed door. I didn't really care enough to investigate, so I laid back down in the bed, pulling the blankets tightly around myself as tears started to leak from my eyes of their own accord.

Awhile later, I heard the door slowly open and close, and footsteps pad softly towards the bed. The mattress dipped with a solid weight, and then a warm, broad body was pressed behind me once more. I knew it was Charlie.

"You told them I was in here," It wasn't a question, or accusation, just a blank statement of fact. I felt the stocky redhead's arms tighten as he agreed quietly, "Ya, I did. You've been hiding for days, love. Everyone was worried."

I didn't answer, merely curling my body into a smaller ball, and crying silently. Behind me, Charlie's sigh blew hot, moist air across my neck. He didn't say anything for a long time, but I could sense him watching, sense those bright blue eyes on me, full of pity.

Pity, that had to be why he was being so nice. I didn't want to be pitied, and the fact that I knew I _was_ pitiable just made me feel worse about myself.

"Have you been eating?" The man finally inquired, his voice soft, gentle, concerned. I shook my head, and could sense an immediate scowl as he prodded me towards the side of the bed, ordering, "Well, you're going to now. Get up."

"I don't want to," I whispered, my voice heartbroken and cracking on every syllable, "I'm not hungry. Leave me alone."

"You think you're doing your mum any good lying here feeling sorry for yourself?" He demanded coldly, once again trying to shove me out of his bed, this time much harder, hard enough to have me sprawled across the floor. Tangled in his blankets, my whole right side stinging from the impact, I looked up at him with angry tears streaking down my face.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed, hysterical, and furious that he would talk about my mom like that, then shove me, and try to order me around. He was supposed to be nice!

"Get. Up," He commanded once more, standing over me with his rough hands balled into thick fists at his wide hips, "You're going to lunch even if I have to _drag_ your skinny arse down there."

"GO TO HELL!" I shouted, clumsily struggling with the blankets wrapped around me, and probably looking like a complete whack job. Once I was free, I stood up, and glared, "You can't tell me what to do, so just go away and leave me alone!"

"Make me," He challenged, a mocking smirk on his face as he stood his ground. I don't even remember deciding to attack him, and then all of a sudden I had, and couldn't see through the angry tears, or hear anything aside from my own screaming and cursing as I swung blindly for his head.

I only managed to get one punch in. The damn bastard was a lot stronger than I was, and had me pinned face first against the wall in just a matter of seconds. I still maintain that he only got that upper hand that quickly because I hadn't really been at the top of my game...

"Your mum's dead, and she's not coming back," He stated flatly, holding my one of my arms twisted up between my shoulder blades with a biting grip on my wrist, hard enough to keep me still, but not really hard enough to seriously hurt me. My other hand scrabbled for purchase against the wall, ending up being pressed flat-palmed against the dark green plaster as Charlie shifted, and declared, "She lied to you, and you're allowed to be angry at her for that. You're allowed to grieve her death, and you're allowed to miss her like hell, but you're not allowed to harm to yourself just because you miss her. She's dead, but you're still alive, and you have to start acting like it. What would she say if she saw you now, huh? Sobbing like a baby, refusing to get out of bed, wasting away for not eating? She'd probably want to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours! Tell you to get your arse up, and quit being so damned foolish!"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" I shrieked, struggling violently, and enraged because I knew that every word he said was true. I didn't like what I'd become, and my mom probably would've given me a good hard smack had she been alive to see it.

Charlie pressed his body harder against mine, his superior strength and weight enough to keep me from being able to move very much as he ignored my order, and continued, "I bet she'd be _ashamed_ to hear that you were behaving like this! Like some spoiled little brat who thinks she's the only person to have ever lost someone that she loves! Driving away all the people who still love her and care about her just because she's so blinded by grief! You think this is how your mum would've wanted you to treat her memory? To have it be a poison to you?"

I couldn't take the truth in his words. Gradually, my anger faded to misery once more, my struggle ceased, and all that was left was my weak body trapped limply between Charlie and the wall.

"It _hurts_," I whimpered quietly, my chest feeling far too tight as I tried to stifle hiccupping sobs. My forehead dropped, thumping hard against the wall and then resting there, the cool plaster surface a sharp contrast to the fevered temperature of my sticky, unwashed skin.

"I know, love," Charlie soothed quietly as he brushed hair away from my tear-streaked face. Glancing over my shoulder, I got caught up for a moment in his clear blue eyes, the kindness pooled in them. "I know," He assured again, softer this time, his grip on my arms loosening, "And it's not the kind of hurt that will ever go away, but it will get easier. Not if you make yourself ill over your grief though. You've gotta live long enough to heal if you want to start feeling better. That's what your mom would've wanted, ya?"

I shifted, my cheek against the wall instead of my forehead, and I tried to swallow down a lump that was lodged high in my throat and making it difficult to breathe. "Y-Ya," I managed to stutter, crying in hopeless defeat.

"Alright then," He agreed, slowly letting me go, catching me when I stumbled backwards into his arms. I was still crying, but quietly, weakly, and he smiled gently as he asked, "Are you ready to go to lunch now?" I paused, and he took the opportunity to add, "And, keep in mind, there is only one right answer."

"Fine," I agreed, my voice quiet, shaking as he set me down and steadied me on my feet, "I'll go."

"Good," The redhead chimed soothingly, gently guiding me to turn until I was standing face-to-face with him. "It really will be ok," He assured, reaching up to softly cradle my face in his palm for a few moments before letting his hand drift slowly down my arm, just barely brushing against the skin that was barred by the ratty old tank top I'd been wearing for over a month. I suddenly felt very self-conscious, knowing that I must look like a complete train wreck.

But Charlie slipped his large, rough hand into mine, and it didn't matter. I let him lead me out of his bedroom, down the long quiet hallway, and down the stairs.

xxXxx

Once we made it to the kitchen, I got freaking _pounced on_.

"Hey, babydoll!" A twin shouted just before grabbing me in a tight hug, picking me up off the ground and spinning me around in circles as he planted loud, wet kisses all over my face and neck. I was too concerned with kicking and squirming to be prepared when he suddenly tossed me to his brother, from whom I received the exact same treatment, along with a laugh of, "We were so worried about you, cupcake!"

"For the love of Merlin, put her down!" Remus swore, wrestling me away from whichever twin had me, gently setting me back on the floor. Once there, he stood in front of me, his long, pale face looking much older than I remembered as he delicately ran his thin hands through my hair, then down my arms, seeming to be checking for damage as he asked softly, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," I mumbled, keeping my eyes down, really regretting having let myself get talked out of the room. My heart was still breaking, and it was taking every ounce of focus I had in me just to not start crying again.

"Food then!" A shrill, pushy voice shouted. I found myself being shoved repeatedly in the direction of the table by Mrs. Weasley, getting scolded along the way, "You are much too skinny to not be eating, dear. Now you sit down right this instant, and you are not getting up until your plate is spotless." Unwilling to think of anything else as I fell down into a chair between the twins, I mumbled a docile, "Yes, ma'am."

Ten minutes later, I was throwing up in the bathroom, the one piece of dry toast I'd managed to force myself to eat, along with all the built up acid in my stomach, making an unpleasant return. It was awful.

I didn't want to leave the bathroom after that. I wanted to sit on the floor beside the toilet, resting my burning skin against the cool, white porcelain of the tank, and I wanted to just let myself fade away.

Unfortunately, as soon as the others figured out that I seemed to have no intention of exiting, Charlie broke down the damn door.

"Come on, love," He chided, gently feeling my forehead before scooping me up off the ground, "I'm not letting you do this to yourself." Not even able to find the will to fight him, I just laid back in his arms, demanding softly, "Why do you even care? You barely know me."

He carried my body another few steps in silence, looking very speculative, I think turning just a little bit red up by his ears, though I could've been mistaken. I mean, come on, when those Weasley's blush it is pretty damn obvious.

"I don't have to have a reason," He finally grumbled under his breath, setting me down on a dingy gray, probably once black sofa. It seemed like a bit of a brush off, and any other day I probably would've seen fit to interrogate him further (and by 'interrogate' I mean 'sit on his head until he tells me'... wait, that doesn't sound right...).

Some of the other people had followed us into the room, and Charlie quickly turned to them, instructing, "Roo, stay. Everyone else, kitchen." I think they were going to have a discussion about me. I'm fairly sure. I'm a hundred-percent certain. Anyways, they all filed out, leaving me with my babysitter. If I had been more myself, I think I probably would've been rather insulted that a baby was given the job.

"Leila," The smiling little girl asked as she jumped onto the couch beside me, getting more dusty footprints on the once lush, and probably very expensive material, "Can I play with your hair?"

I turned my back on her, bringing my knees up to my chest as I muttered, "Go nuts, pint-size." She probably could've asked to paint me blue and I still would've said yes. That is the danger of complete and total apathy.

"Do you still miss your mummy?" She inquired bluntly, her talented fingers already working through the many tangles in my long hair. Feeling the tightness in my chest suddenly twinge sharply, and hot tears bubbling back up, I set my head down on my knees, and mumbled quietly, "Yes."

"Oh," Roo remarked, her chatter somehow soothing, as were her gentle actions on my hair and scalp, "Well, my mummy left me, too, only she left when I was just a little baby, and she went to France, so she doesn't come to see me. I don't remember her, but my daddy told me that she's real pretty... what was your mummy like?"

Fuck. "M-My mom?" I responded, my voice cracking horribly. How she didn't realize it was a bad conversation point, I'll never understand. I mean, she was a baby, not a moron, right?

Apparently, wrong. "Ya," She continued, obliviously smoothing and parting long strands of my hair she then proceeded to swiftly braid, "Was it nice having a mummy?"

"She... I... it was..." I faltered for a few minutes, trying not to lose it. Eventually though, after quite a few deep, steeling breaths, I finally managed to state flatly, "It was very nice."

Roo hummed in quiet speculation, and I could feel tears dripping down my face. I didn't want to cry, and was trying _so_ hard not to, because I didn't want to let down my mom, or Charlie, strangely enough, but it was just impossible.

"What was she like?" The girl pressed once more, having finishing off the braid, taking a few moments to admire it, then beginning to undo her work. I started wondering whether or not the braid would be long enough for me to hang myself with.

"She was..." I began, barely able to speak as the lump in my throat moved higher, feeling like it was stuck in the back of my mouth and cutting me off from fresh oxygen. My head was spinning, and I don't know where I found the voice to keep talking, "She was wonderful, really smart, and funny, and so brave. She was the strongest woman I've ever known, a-and I love her so much... I miss her... I want her to come back and be with me... it's not fair..."

"Leila?" I was suddenly bawling again, my slumped shoulders racking with every sob I was desperately trying to hide behind my knees and folded arms. "Leila?" But Roo was jumping on the couch cushion behind me, sounding confused and worried, "Did I pull your hair too hard? I'm sorry! Please don't cry!" She clung to my back, trying to fit her spindly, freckly little arms around my body in a hug. I wished I could've stopped, but I felt too broken, like any minute I was going to collapse into myself because my insides were completely hollow, and definitely not strong enough for the grief weighing on my body.

A few minutes passed with me just crying hysterically, and Roo trying her very best to make me stop. The poor little thing thought that my pain was her fault in some way. I know I should've made some effort to tell her that it wasn't, but I just couldn't stop crying, not even when I hear Ron walk into the room and declare, "Leila, Mum wanted you to try and eat again, so I brought you a- oh, bollocks"

"Uncle Ron!" Roo screeched, her little arms squeezing me around the neck as she jumped up and down on the couch, "I made Leila sad! Fix her!" I have no idea why, but the comment just made me bawl three times harder. I was such a fucking wreck.

"Ya, ya," Ron soothed the little girl, crossing the room in a few long strides to pick her up off my back, "I'm sure Leila will be just fine, and you can help her by going and getting your daddy, and Uncle Charlie, and Mr. Lupin, ok?" I didn't see the look Roo gave him, but knew it was a short-tempered sort of pout from the tone in her voice as she declared, "Ok, but you have to promise to stay with Leila and try to make her not sad anymore!"

"I promise," Ron half-chuckled back, throwing an arm around me just to prove his point, "Now go on. Hurry up." A flurry of rapid footsteps signaled Roo's departure, and then I was left alone with Ron, sobbing hysterically and completely unable to force myself to stop.

"Hey, um," The teen offered lamely, hugging me against his side as he tucked my head onto his shoulder, "Don't cry. I... uh... I brought you a sandwich!"

For a moment, I was unsure of what I'd just heard. I was suddenly able to stifle my sobs into sniffles, and pick my head up off his shoulder in order to stare blankly at his big, dopey, freckly grin. He was holding out a sandwich, offering it to me like it was some miracle cure for all my complex emotional pain.

Briefly, I considered punching him in the throat for suggesting that a sandwich would make me better, but then, after I thought about it for another moment, I realized that I just couldn't. Ron didn't do what he did to be mean, or funny. The boy sincerely believed that a sandwich would help. Bless his simple little heart, it was an honest effort at providing comfort.

I laughed, a pitiful little wheeze as I told him quietly, "I'm really not hungry, but thank you."

"You sure?" He offered again, taking a bite himself before putting the square of stuffed bread back in front of my face, and adding with his mouth full, "I's ham'n cheese."

Choking on giggles once more, I relaxed onto that sweet boy, sniffling, "It's gonna make me sick again."

The arm he had around me tightened, and he pouted, his clear blue eyes going huge as he jutted out his bottom lip, and begged sweetly, "Please?"

I just wanted him to stop giving me that sickeningly cute baby seal face, so I grudgingly leaned forward and took a small bite of the sandwich he was holding out to me. The pleading face turned into a big freckly grin once more, and I returned a small smile, concentrating on chewing, and swallowing, and not throwing up. Surprisingly, I succeeded, forcing down the bite, feeling my stomach growl and demand more.

Ron looked ecstatic, waving the sandwich towards me again as he teased sweetly, "Open wide, here comes the dragon!"

"Cut it out, you goon!" I laughed, struggling weakly as he missed my mouth and poked me in the eye, "I'm not a baby!"

"_Rowr!_" He mocked, making the sandwich give off noises like a dragon as he continue trying to make me eat it. I was laughing so hard by that time that he easily stuffed another two bites into my mouth before I shoved him off, pinning him back down on the couch as I chewed the food.

"Big mistake, boy-o," I teased, putting on a mock evil face as I straddled him, then started tickling him like crazy. The big, gangly young man was completely at my mercy, a pile of giggling freckles, and shaggy tomato hair.

I don't know how he did it, but Ron Weasley managed to actually make me laugh, even at a point in my life when I was sure I never would again.

"GET OFF MY BOYFRIEND!" A grating, nails-on-chalkboard screech split through the air, making both Ron and I wince, then look over to the doorway to find its origin. Hermione's hair was just a bit more wild than usual that day, giving her sort of a mental patient vibe, especially with the way her face was turning deep purple, and her clenched fists were shaking at her sides.

"Hi, 'Mione," Ron greeted gently, looking horrified by her obvious anger. Not bothering to get off him, slightly amused that our position was making her such a jealous bitch, I grinned, asking innocently, "What's up?"

"Get. Off. Him," She repeated, her voice a low, crackling growl. I decided to play dumb, asking seriously, "Why?"

Her brown eyes narrowed dangerously, and she hissed a curt, slightly demonic, "_Now._"

I'm a strange person. I'm also mean at times. That time happened to be one of the times I felt like being mean, and I'm at a completely loss as to why. Grinning devilishly at Hermione, I wiggled my butt against Ron's lap, making him gasp, and lose all rational thought, which was, I imagine, the reason he did nothing about my next move.

"What's the matter, 'Mione?" I called sweetly over to the girl, petting her boyfriend's hair, then running both my hands down his chest, slipping them up his shirt, "Can't handle a little competition?"

I'm a bitch and I know it, so you can stop mentally cursing me.

Hermione took a more vocal approach, her cheeks flushing dark pink as she screamed, "GET OFF HIM RIGHT NOW, YOU TRAMP!"

"Tramp?" I answered, arching an eyebrow at the girl as I _very_ slowly un-straddled Ron, "Them's fightin' words, beaver-face." And then she shrieked, and launched herself at me with a _hilarious_ flurry of teeny, tiny fists.

I easily held her back by a hand to the forehead, keeping her at arms length while she just swung blindly at me over, and over, and over. It might've gotten boring if it wasn't so funny. I was cracking up the entire time.

But then Remus, Bill, and Charlie came in, and ruined my fun. Bill pulled Hermione away, and took her and Ron out of the room. I fell back onto the couch, enjoying the fleeting ray of happiness before I remembered how depressed I was and it left me once again on the brink of self-destruction.

"That was mean," Charlie commented as he finally fell down into the seat beside me. His voice was stern, but he looked amused, causing me to return a weak smile, and respond, "I know."

The burly redhead chuckled, throwing a thick, still mysteriously bandaged arm around my shoulders and pulling me tight against his side as he sighed deeply. "I knew you'd be alright," He declared, mouthing the words against my temple, "Just give it time, love. Don't ever give up."


	5. Part 5: Give Me a Reason

Part 5 - Give Me a Reason

"You're looking much better today, love," On the list of things I wanted to hear the fateful morning Charlie Weasley grinned at me across the breakfast table, the words he uttered were nowhere on it. I still felt like crap, and was still wearing the same tank top and shorts I'd had one for over a month. I was unshowered, and exhausted, and everything hurt, and I was still randomly bursting into tears over stupid, trivial things. I didn't feel much better, and didn't really appreciate the cheerfully optimistic lie.

"Bugger off," I grumbled crossly, stabbing viciously at the waffle that had been set on my plate, which I had absolutely no intention of actually eating. Maiming it was far more satisfying. I glared at Charlie, and he glared back, and the rest of the occupants of the table got rather quiet.

"Just trying to be nice," He responded curtly, shoving a dripping, syrupy slab of waffle into his big, fat mouth, "And you do look better, now that you've been eating again, that is. I think the next step is a shower, and then an attitude adjustment."

I hit him in the face with a salt shaker.

Mean, I know, but my temper was getting the better of me again, and I had a lot of aggression with my depression, and impulse control was becoming a serious problem. It had been a few days since Charlie's arrival, and he had hardly left me alone, always being nice, and supportive, and friendly, and it was driving me INSANE! I wanted to go back to bed and cry, and he wasn't letting me! He was making me get up every day, and interact with people, read, go outside, eat, stuff like that, the fucking bastard...

Of course, my constant opposition to his best efforts was starting to get on his nerves as well. Any normal person would have just left me alone when I was being as annoying as I was to Charlie, but he was not a normal person. He is infuriatingly stubborn, and refused to admit defeat. The stupid man still had some deluded fantasy about saving me from my grief.

"OW! BLOODY BUGGERING FUCK!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, falling out of his chair, and then writhing on the ground as he held his forehead. I smirked slightly as the rest of the people in the room jumped up to see if he was ok, Roo giving a horrifed shout of, "UNCLE CHARLIE! DON'T SAY BAD WORDS! GRANNY'S GONNA WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT!"

My smirk turned into a full-on guffaw, and I was holding my sides laughing just a few seconds later. A few seconds after that, there were tears streaming down my face, and I wasn't entirely sure why.

I was so occupied with my horribly turbulent emotional fit, that I didn't even see Charlie jump to his feet, growl, and charge straight for me. He plucked me rather roughly from my chair, slung me over his shoulder, and stomped from the room.

"PUT ME DOWN, FREAK!" I screamed, frustrated and angry with myself and him, kicking wildly, and pounding my fists against his broad back, "LEAVE ME ALONE! JUST LET ME BE! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!"

"No," He grunted in response, carrying me up a flight of stairs like I was nothing, "The question is, why are _you_ doing this? Why won't you fight?"

"WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE I'M DOING, TWAT!" I shrieked, oblivious to the fact that he was carrying me into the first bathroom on the second floor landing, "PUT ME DOWN AND FIGHT LIKE A REAL MAN! I'LL KICK YOUR FUCKING AR-AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

That goddamn mother fucker threw me under a cold shower! Like full-on _ice blast!_ He turned on the water, and tossed me in, and I was _pissed._

"W-WHAT IS W-WRONG WITH YOU!" I stuttered, shivering as my lips already started to go numb, "YOU BASTARD-D! L-LET ME OUT!"

"No," He insisted, blocking me from getting away from the water, even though it meant getting himself soaked right along with me, "You have two choices: take a nice hot shower on your own, _now_, or I'll hold you under the cold water for a few hours. Your call."

"YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" I shouted, launching myself at him, pummeling his chest with my fists, even though he stood still and didn't seem affected, "I DON'T WANT A FUCKING SHOWER! I WANT YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE!"

He remained silent, giving me a very stern look, folding his arms and continuing to just be large and bothersome. I immediately got frustrated, and exhausted, and stepped away until my back hit the tile wall, and I slid slowly down it, cowering in a frigid corner. It was useless to fight Charlie. I'd been trying to for days, and it never worked, and no one else in the house would help me. Apparently, the second eldest Weasley had declared that he could fix me, and Remus had given him full authority to do whatever he needed to accomplish that.

"Fine," I gave in weakly, "Just get out then."

"Nuh uh," He scolded, momentarily dropping the statue face in favor of rubbing at the tender welt forming on his forehead, wincing as he informed me, "I'll be staying in here to make sure you do it. I'll sit right there on the toilet, and you close the curtain and shower, and we'll talk. Alright?"

"Not even close to _alright,_" I grumbled, sniffling tiredly, shivering like crazy as I went on, "But you're not really giving me a choice."

He frowned, then leaned across me and turned on the hot water, granting me a blessed cascade of actual heat. "Sorry," He muttered tenderly, taking a knee in front of me and brushing soaked blonde hair out of my eyes, "And no, you don't have a choice... I... I just want you to be ok. I know you're hurting, but let me help you. You're not lost. You've just gotta stop fighting me, and start fighting your way back to the land of the living."

I started sobbing again, feeling cold despite the scalding water pouring over me. Charlie was right on top of that, pulling me into a tight hug and rocking me under the spray.

After finally managing to calm down, the first thing I did was apologize. "Sorry," I mumbled into his chest, still lying limply against him. At a confused little hum from the man, I picked my head up, actually looking into his eyes for probably the first time since he'd come back. They were an insanely clear blue, a dangerously clear blue that reminded me of tropical waters, where you can look down and see for hundreds of feet, but the depth seems shallow, within reach. You jump in and find that the water is comfortably warm, and you swim for the bottom without fear or doubt, swim down until your lungs start to burn.

That's when you realize that the ocean floor was an illusion. The clear water is deeper than you could ever begin to handle, but by that time it's already too late to make it back to the surface. The burn in your lungs turns into a shallow ache, your vision starts to darken, and you realize that drowning doesn't hurt nearly half as bad as you thought it would.

"What for?" Charlie asked, snapping me from my strangely poetic inner monologue. However, in the second it took me to fully come out of it, the redhead seemed to lose himself.

"You... um..." He offered a few moments later, his face red, whether from a blush, or the hot water, I couldn't be sure, "You have nice eyes."

"Thanks," I whispered back, frozen in place, feeling like I was watching the scene from somewhere outside my body as Charlie toyed with a lock of my hair, and his head tiled to the side, and his eyes became clouded, and dark, and he slowly leaned in closer to me...

"Salt shaker," I stated flatly, completely out of nowhere, making Charlie immediately pull back. He looked confused, frowning as he asked, "Huh?"

"I'm, um..." I uttered lamely, my cheeks turning bright red as I focused my gaze on a cluster of freckles that looked like the Hercules constellation peaking out from the neck of his t-shirt, "I'm sorry for hitting you with the salt shaker."

He took a moment's pause, then his strange expression of shock, and startled confusion turned to a slight smile, and he reached up to feel the lump on his forehead as he chuckled, "Ya, that was a bit uncalled for."

I laughed, and he laughed, and everything felt alright for a little while.

Eventually, Charlie got up, putting me firmly on both feet as he stepped out of the shower, and said, "Well, I'm gonna get us both dry clothes. You just clean up. I'll be back in a bit to sit with you, ok?" I nodded, watching as he turned and walked out.

Once he was gone, I stripped, and got to work showering, actually washing my hair for the first time in over a month. I'd almost forgotten just how good being clean could feel. The whole bathroom was enveloped in a hazy, smothering cloud of steam that smelled like blackberries, as that was the scent of the shampoo I'd found. The dull pain all through my body was slowly being melted away, and I found myself softly humming as I just stood beneath the spray. As the minutes ticked by with no sign of Charlie's return, I eventually started to sing to myself...

_here we are again  
with handguns for hearts  
they had a master plan  
wanted to tears us apart  
nothing to hold  
all hope deleted  
our demise has been completed _

now there's nowhere left to go but down  
the flames of hell they give me hope  
I drown  
in oceans of this tragic part of town  
where nothing's heard for miles but the sound  
of children wishing they were safely underground

we are the walking dead  
we hold this ghost in our arms  
we take our daily breath  
and thank our unlucky stars  
tried to get by on bread and water  
craving blood poured from the altar

now there's nowhere left to go but down  
in flames of miscommunication  
drown  
then out and off in search of someone proud  
to translate what we truly dream about  
as we lay in this bed thinking outloud

I'm screaming uncle  
mercy me  
in my broken telepathy  
for I'm left with nothing but this bloodless riverbank  
West Memphis  
please  
I'm begging you to stop praying for me...

"Alkaline Trio!" I jumped when I heard someone yell the name of the band whose song I was singing, and nearly fell straight on my ass. If it hadn't been the non-slip daisies on the floor, I would've probably knocked myself out. After a brief moment to calm down and catch my breath, I furiously stuck my head out of the curtain to glare at the invader.

It turned out to be Draco, an insufferable smirk on his sharp face as he stood in an 'I'm not trying to be cool, but you know you know I am' pose that I _so_ wasn't buying. He was just trying way too hard.

"GET THE HELL OUT, YOU LITTLE ALBINO FREAK!" I shouted, quite pissed that not only the boy had decided to just let himself in while I was showering, but also that Charlie had not seen fit to lock the door... and that Charlie wasn't back yet...

Draco's smirk widened, and I was expecting some perverted comment, or, at the very least, a horribly inappropriate proposition, as those had made up the body of our brief conversations in the months or so I'd been trapped in the house with him, but, instead, he just asked rather plainly, "That was an Alkaline Trio song that you were singing, right? Off the Crimson album?"

I kinda frowned, quite confused, since I'd been told that Draco was a pureblooded snob, and it didn't make sense at all for him to be able to properly identify muggle music. "Ya," I answered, "It's called 'Prevent This Tragedy.'"

"Excellent," He responded, his easy, friendly tone not at all matching his harsh, stuck-up demeanor, "I love them. Have you heard their split CD's? The one they did with Hot Water Music was fantastic."

I was even more confused, but slightly thrilled that there was someone in the house that liked the same music I did, and smiled as I said, "Ya. 'Queen of Pain' is fucking epic."

We lapsed into an awkward silence for a few moments, then I finally remembered that I was naked, and shielded from a hormone-ridden teenage boy by only a thin, probably slightly seethrough shower curtain. "Towel," I requested curtly, shutting the water off and sticking my hand forward. Draco took a big, fluffy green one down from the bar, and held it out to me. After I dried off and covered up, I stepped out.

He very purposely eyed me up and down, smirking again as he commented, "Wet for me, huh?"

I groaned at the lameness of it all, shooting back sarcastically, "Oh ya, sopping. Mind getting the hell out now?"

"What's the rush?" He inquired, taking a few steps closer to me as he let his slimy attempt at a pick up progress, "I mean, the only thing standing between standing between you and me is that lil' ole towel. Don't you fancy some fun with a male who's not a Weasley, four-eyes, or geezer?"

_Yuck._ "No, actually," I shot back, holding my towel firmly in place with one hand as I planted the other on his scrawny little chest and shoved him backwards, "My toys have to be sturdy. I'm a bit hard on them, and they have a tendency to break. You, I'd probably snap in half."

"I can handle it," He assured me as I finally managed to get him outside the bathroom, "Come on, quit playing hard to get. I'm going nuts here with no girls aside from Weaselette and the mudbloo-"

I didn't even let him finish that insult before I socked him hard in the face. He got kinda half knocked out, swaying on the spot and almost collapsing, but then I grabbed him by a handful of greasy white-blonde hair, holding him up by it and kneeing him hard in the balls.

Then I finally let him fall to the ground with a pitiful whimper and dull thud. He writhed there, cupping his privates, and I stood over him with my hands on my hips, just watching for a moment, angry, but also amused.

Eventually, I knelt down at his side, smirking at his pain as I warned, "You're a horny little worm, I get that, and I'm fine with shooting down your sad sexual advances, but you _will not_ use that kind of language to refer to _anyone_, regardless of whether or not she's an annoying bitch. Got me?"

He didn't answer, gasping for breath, and crying just a little, so I stood up and pressed my foot against his tender crotch, increasing the pressure until he screamed. "Got me?" I asked once more, wanting to be certain that we understood each other so that there would be no more unpleasant confrontations. The poor boy finally managed another whimper, and a nod, and I let him go. Satisfied that he'd at least be too sore to hit on me for awhile, I turned and walked down the hallway to my ugly room.

xxXxx

About half an hour later, I was sprawled on my bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling and trying my hardest not to think when the door to my room suddenly flew open, and a pair of bodies landed on top of mine.

"OOF!" I grunted, momentarily knocked breathless by the Weasley twin on my stomach, being prevented from movement by the one on my legs. "BRILLIANT!" He shouted happily, pausing and letting his brother suddenly plant a wet, sloppy kiss on my cheek, and then comment, "We love what you've done to Malfoy!"

"No trouble, really," I responded weakly, not feeling up to dealing with their bubbly personalities at that moment. The twins were too... lively.

"Hehe," The one on my stomach giggled, ruffling my damp hair, "Seriously, you are a Goddess! What did the ferret do to warrant nut-squishing? Not that I'm complaining..."

"Called Hermione a _mudblood_," I muttered crossly, going back to staring straight up at the ceiling. I sensed them both frown, pausing for a few moments before the one sprawled across my legs inquired, "You stuck up for Hermione? I thought you didn't like her."

Shrugging, I replied blankly, "I don't. She's a crazy, uptight bitch, but that doesn't give Draco the right to call her what he called her. He's allowed to dislike her because of her horribly abrasive personality, not because of her blood. Hopefully he understands that now."

"And if he doesn't," The twin on my stomach remarked with a chuckle, lightly tickling my ribs, "I'm sure our girl will be happy to remind him." I rolled my eyes, still not entirely liking the fact that the twins had taken to calling me 'their girl,' but fairly powerless to make them stop.

"Leila," Another voice suddenly called into my room, followed very shortly by Charlie strolling in. I scowled at him, snapping sharply, "Nice of you to finally show up, door-leaver-unlocker!"

The poor man looked incredibly confused, grunting, "Huh?"

"Never mind," I responded softly, once more going back to staring at the ceiling.

"Fred, George, off," Charlie finally ordered, hauling his brothers up by the scruffs of their necks, then telling me, "Come on, love. I've been talking to Moody, and he's got a job for you."

I sighed, turning away from him and grumbling tiredly, "Don't want a job. Get someone else."

He walked around my bed, kneeling in front of me, a concerned, frustrated, slightly annoyed expression on his face as he asked, "What happened? You were alright when I left you."

"Ya, and then you never came back!" I shouted in his face, feeling irrationally hurt by his brief abandonment. I probably shouldn't have reacted so strongly, but I was in a state of extreme emotional vulnerability, and every little thing that went wrong suddenly felt like the end of the fucking world.

Right on cue, I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as I hugged my knees up to my chest. Before his face blurred from my vision, I could see that Charlie looked very worried, and guilty, and taken aback. Nevertheless, I felt him reach up and cup my face in his palm, soothing, "Aw, love, I-I'm sorry. I didn't leave you, I just got held up is all. I'm really sorry. It won't ever happen again, alright?"

"Ya, right," I whimpered angrily, once again turning away from the caring man. This just prompted him to physically pick me up from my bed, arranging me so that I was sitting on the edge, and not letting me shy away from his touch, or gaze.

He pushed hair back from my face, and wiped tears off my cheeks as he just looked at me for a few moments, like really just _looked._ The redhead seemed like he was thinking hard, staring intensely before finally stating, "I promise, ok? I promise that as long as you need me I'm not going anywhere."

Sniffling and suddenly aware of just how incredibly pathetic I was, I stood abruptly to my feet, wiping furiously at my eyes as I stormed out of the room. "Whatever," I grumbled, "Let's go get this stupid 'job' over with."

xxXxx

"This is the _best job ever!_" I announced, a wicked grin on my face as I surveying the slightly frightened 'Golden Trio' with evil intentions. Apparently, training sessions with me ranked somewhere on the same level as fighting He-Who-Has-No-Balls, and I was immensely pleased with that fact.

Moody had decided that my comments about Harry being a scrawny mother fucker who couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag were entirely true, and that the bespectacled youth and his two side-kicks should get more hand-to-hand combat training. Since Moody himself was a bit too old and impatient to be teaching, I was naturally the next choice. After all, I massacred a hell of a lot of Moros, so my skill was quite lengendary.

"This is rubbish!" Hermione shouted, her terror only half concealed by the hatred she was directing my way as she spoke to Moody about me like I wasn't even there, "She can't teach us anything! She's completely unstable, and violent, and mean, and a MURDERER!"

"Big words for a bitch who's gotten through life on a lucky right hook," I taunted with a smirk, slightly amused by the story about the time she decked Malfoy. Apprarently, she was some kind of hero to her friends because of it, and I thought that was rather pathetic. It was like being proud of someone for squishing a bug.

"Oh, that is IT!" She screeched, suddenly coming at me with her fists swinging, looking intent on hitting me. However, she had a totally open stance, and I easy side-stepped the attempt, punching her in the throat hard enough to collapse her airway and knock her ass straight to the ground.

"Wow," I mused, watching with perverse joy as she gasped for air, and Harry and Ron both ran to her sides, "You'd better not ever drop your wand, sweetheart. You'll be dead meat."

"You didn't have to hit her so hard!" Ron and Harry both yelled, clearly pissed, which made me laugh. "Ya," I argued, "I sorta did. You think Death Eaters will be struck down by her little hissyfits? That righteous indignation is any substitute for strength and skill? If you and your little pals wanna survive, you'll learn how to fight, and learning how to fight involves getting the shit kicked out of you every once in awhile just as a reminder of what will happen if you lose, and sometimes what you have to go through to win."

All three members of the Trio glared in silence, and I could tell that they knew I was a hundred percent right. I'd been filled in on their little quests, learning that they'd gone on several unsuccessful and usually disastrous missions to find horcruxes over the last two years. After easily beating up both Harry and Hermione, I was amazed that they were even still alive.

"Get up," I ordered, stretching out my legs and feeling fortunate that I'd chosen a baggy black muscle shirt and grey sweats to wear, "Just conditioning you losers is gonna take weeks, so we should hurry up and start."

They glared, but did as they were told, and I smirked, instructing, "Drop and give me fifty." Harry scowled, "But you just told us to get up!" Displeased by the opposition, because I'm a bit of a control freak, I snapped, "Ya, I did, AND NOW I'M TELLING YOU TO DROP AND GIVE ME FUCKING FIFTY! DO IT!"

The speed with which they hit the floor was amazing, as was the power I felt at having been the one to make them. I suddenly knew that day was going to be a good one.

xxXxx

Five grueling hours later, the Trio was collapsed in a heap on the floor, breathing heavily and look as if they'd never find the strength to get back up again. After push ups, and some basic instruction in form, I'd simply ordered them to fight to the death. I told them that it was to see who needed work on what, but, really, it was just a way of keeping myself entertained. Watching the best friends beat the crap out of each other just because I'd ordered them to was awesome.

"Harry needs a set of barbells," I lazily told Charlie, who was sprawled beside me on a squashy red loveseat he'd conjured, "Can we see about getting one? I mean, he has _no_ upper body strength... some steroids probably wouldn't hurt either."

"Leila," The redhead chuckled, throwing an arm around my shoulders, "We are not putting Harry on steroids. I'll see what I can do about the barbells though." I leaned against him, smiling happily, and he asked, "Anything else?"

After thinking for a moment, I listed off, "Speed bag, heavy bag, sparring gear, jumpropes, some floor mats... cigarettes and vodka."

"Cigarettes and vodka?" Charlie teased, "How do those fit into your training plan?" With a grin, I informed him haughtily, "They happen to be essential elements to any successful work out regimen."

"No vodka," He scolded, obviously not buying it. Before he could shoot down the rest of my request, reminding me once more that Remus was insisting I be broken of my 'disgusting habit,' I pouted sweetly, cuddling closer to him as I begged half-sarcastically, "Pretty please, Charlie?"

His ears turned red. That time I know I didn't imagined it, and it couldn't be mistaken for, or blamed on anything else. I made Charlie Weasley blush. And then he caved, looking away kind of awkwardly as he muttered, "I-I'll see what I can do... about the cigarettes. No vodka, but maybe cigarettes... as long as Remus doesn't find out."

I was slightly confused that I'd gotten him to agree, since I'd been asking for the last few days, and he always said no. However, since I was so happy that he'd finally said yes, I didn't put too much thought into it, laughing and smiling as I bounced up, and threw my arms around the burly redhead in a big hug.

"Thank you!" I giggled, squeezing him tightly, then giving him a quick peck on the cheek before getting up, and skipping out of the room, "I'm gonna go see if Bill will give back my knives so I can teach los tres idiotas some throwing before they pass out on me."

I didn't stay long enough to see Charlie's blush spread from his ears all the way over his face and neck, or his mouth fall open in silent shock.

xxXxx

Bill refused to return my knives, saying that after what I'd done to Malfoy that morning it wasn't a good idea to be giving me weapons. It was ridiculous, of course. I didn't need any weapons to hurt people. Keeping them away would annoy me, but not prevent me from causing pain.

By the time I got back to the training room, Charlie was gone, and Ron was giggling like mad, rolling on the floor in between the still very unhappy Harry and Hermione.

"What's going on?" I demanded crossly, giving Ron a sharp poke in the ribs with my toes, "What's so funny? And where did Charlie go?"

That made Ron start laughing harder, and even Harry joined in with a slight snort. "Charlie said..." Ron gasped between fits of giggles, "Charlie said he was going to the store for _you._"

"Oh," I responded blankly, not really getting why that was funny in the least bit, but thrilled nonetheless that I was soon going to have some cigarettes, "Well... great! Get up you lot, and get your asses into the backyard for laps." They all groaned, but obeyed anyways, and I got to spend a few hours in the sun, watching them wheeze and suffer.

xxXxx

"Give me the remote," Sirius demanded that night as we were watching television together. He was in love with the muggle device, and I'd seen him become absolutely mesmerized by it on a frequent basis, however, I had the remote, and I was channel surfing, completely unable to decide what I wanted to watch.

"Give me a reason not to set you on fire," Was my curt, distracted response, not even bothering to look at the man as I continued to click through lots and lots of shows I had absolutely no interest in. Hermione had gotten Grimmauld television, but not satellite. What the hell is the point of that?

"Hey!" He yelped grouchily, scowling up at me from his nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, "Don't make me come up there, little girl!" I gave a little grunt of disbelief, replying, "Somehow I doubt you'd put in the effort."

"I might," Sirius pouted, looking more like a small, petulant child than a forty-something-year-old man who'd spent most of the last two decades in prisons, caves, and inter-dimensional voids, "You don't know." Rolling my eyes, I simply shifted across the couch on which I was seated, and went back to flipping channels.

A few minutes later, I froze. _The Wizard of Oz,_ was on, and I love that movie. I mostly love that movie because my mom loved that movie. I'd probably seen it a million times throughout my childhood, and my mom had always a tendency to randomly break out into songs from it, her favorites being "We're Off to See the Wizard," and "If I Only Had a Brain."

"OH! Leave it!" Sirius shouted, his attention focused on the black and white tornado on the screen, "I love this one!" I did leave it, but mostly because I'd started crying again, and couldn't will myself to change to something else. We were all the way to the part with the flying monkeys before anyone noticed.

"What are we watching, Peaches?" A twin asked as he leapt over the back of the couch, and landed at my side. He was followed very shortly after by his brother, who landed on the other side, and groaned, "Not the one with the wizard who's not really a wizard again! Black, how many times you gonna make us sit through this!"

"Oy, shut up!" Sirius responded, not bothering to take his eyes off the screen, "Leila picked it."

The twin on my right chuckled, and threw an around my shoulders, "Well, if our girl picked it, then I guess it's alri... Aw, what's wrong, beautiful?" The one on the left perked up, as did Sirius, and they were both suddenly looking at me, apparently upset by my tears.

I couldn't coherently tell them what was wrong, and it probably would've seemed stupid even if I could. I felt pathetic, but couldn't stop crying.

"S-Shut up," I finally managed, surprising myself by what my brain had decided I would be saying, "Just shut up. I-I'm trying to watch. I love this movie."

"Well... but..." The twin on the left stuttered lamely, sharing significant glances with the other two men in the room, "But you're crying. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I insisted, hugging myself, trying to shrink away from the twin arms that had fallen around me, "Nothing. Shut up and let me watch."

Sirius frowned, putting a hand on my knee, and squeezing as he insisted, "You're _crying._ It is definitely not nothing."

"Get out of the way!" I ordered, sniffling sadly, trying to blink away the tears, "I'm fine, and I can't see! This is a great part."

"Leila, stop it," The twin on the right scolded gently, taking the remote away from me, and turning off the television, "You're not fine. Tell us what's wrong."

I stared at the blackened screen for a few moments, then my slow trickle of tears burst into full on sobbing. Instead of letting the three men comfort me, I shoved them away, and ran from the room.

xxXxx

That night, I had a dream that I was the tinman. Well, tinwoman, I suppose, but specifics aren't really important.

I was walking alone along the yellow brick road on a bright, beautiful, late-thirties cliche of a summer day. Even though it was nice out, and I was happily clunking my merry way towards the Emerald City, I couldn't help but wonder where my friends had gotten to.

I took a few more noisy steps, and suddenly found myself on the edge of a sticky crimson puddle that was staining the yellow bricks a nasty shade of gore.

I looked up, and the sky was black, and practically pulsing. I looked down again, and then I saw what was happening.

My mom was Dorothy, and hundreds of flying monkeys were attacking her, raping her, pulling her apart. She was screaming, horrible death screams, the kind a person can only conjure when they're in so much pain that they don't exist outside it any longer.

"MOMMY!" I shouted, immediately sprinting towards her, my axe in hand as I prepared to save her. However, I started crying, and my tears, and the blood I was wading through slowly made my joints rust over. My body groaned to a squeaking, metallic halt, and I watched helplessly as my mom's last, ragged breath left her body. The monkeys tore her to shreds, and hung her body parts from my paralyzed limbs.

The rust was eating me alive, and before the pool of blood even rose high enough start drowning me, I was already crumbling to dust, my body decomposing because I couldn't stop the tears that were eat away at the strong material I was made of. Then crimson flooded into my mouth, and nose, and eyes, and I couldn't breath, and everything went black.

I woke up screaming, loud, and shrill, and terrified. I was disoriented, the tears in my eyes making the dark, horribly decorated room unfocused and sinister. My throat hurt from crying, and my head hurt from getting cut off from oxygen for so long, and I was so scared, and so alone, and I could still feel the phantom blood drenching me, still feel the rust decaying my body. It was horrible.

"Leila, love, what's wrong!" Charlie yelled as he threw open the door, flicking the lights on, and then immediately rushing to my side. He pulled me against his chest, his strong arms tightening around me as he whispered kind words, trying to get me to calm down.

His clothes felt cool, so I realized that he must've just gotten back to headquarters. He must've been outside. I don't know why it mattered then, or even now, but it's the one rational thing I can clearly remember thinking at the time.

"What happened?" He inquired kindly, rocking me very gently as he petted my hair. I sniffled against his chest, tiredly closing my eyes as I replied, "Nothing."

I felt him instantly tense, and he pulled back, holding me at arms length and scowling as he said, "No, you're not gonna pull that 'nothing' shit with me. What happened?"

"Just leave me alone," I replied weakly, shoving him away, and lying back down, still crying, not wanting to sleep, but also not wanting to talk about my dream because it just hurt too much. Charlie wasn't having that.

Before I even had the chance to protest his treatment of me, the gruff man easily scooped me up out of my bed, blanket and all, and carried me out of the room.

A few minutes later, we were in the backyard, and he was setting me carefully down on the stone bench where'd I'd met him the first time. He sat down beside me, regarding me carefully for a few moments before finally holding out a small black box.

Though I was still crying, I couldn't help but laugh. It was cigarettes. He'd bought me cigarettes, the right brand and everything. He was sweet for remembering what I smoked.

"Thanks," I whispered, tapping the box against my palm before opening it, and holding a long black cigarette up to my lips, "Got a light?

Charlie held up a small book of matches, and I made a grab for it. However, he pulled it back and held it just out of my reach, smiling as he scolded, "Tell me why you were screaming. Did you have a nightmare?"

I glared, then looked away, feeling very uncomfortable with sharing as I responded simply, "Obviously. Give me the matches."

"Tell me what it was about," He ordered gently, "And then I'll give you the matches." I glared, "You're an ass." He grinned, "But a very handsome one, wouldn't you say?" I glared once more, and fell into a stubborn silence.

However, it turns out my desire for a cigarette outweighed my stubbornness, and I finally sighed deeply, "I'm the tinman."

"Wouldn't you be the tin_woman_?" He teased, a cheeky smile coming across his face. I fought to keep one off of mine, slapping him on the arm as I responded, "Shut up! You wanna hear this, or not?"

"Ya, ya," He apologized, "Sorry, go on." I took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.

"I'm the tinman," I continued flatly, "And I'm walking on the yellow brick road. The sky goes black, and I realize that my mom's getting raped and ripped apart by the flying monkeys. I run to save her, but I'm crying, and I get blood all over me, so my joints rust before I can even get close enough to even use my axe. S-She dies, and I can't do anything. The monkeys hang her body parts from me. The rust eats me up, and I suffocate on her blood."

Charlie's mouth was hanging wide open, a completely horrified expression on his face, and I simply held my hand out, ordering, "Matches." He gave them to me without a word, and I lit up, smoking in silence for a few tense minutes.

"You watched them kill your mum, didn't you?" The man finally asked, his voice low, deep, husky. I sucked in a mouthful of smoke, letting it out slowly as I shot back, "Who, the monkeys, or the Moros? Yes to both, but just so we're clear."

He winced, going silent again before leaning over and snagging a cigarette out of the box I'd set beside myself. He had it lit in a few seconds, taking several long, shaking drags before reporting, "I'm supposed to have quit smoking, you know."

"Tragic, really," I answered, staring blankly at the pinpricks of starlight above us. After another few moments of awkward silence, I pointed at a constellation, stating softly, "Look, there's Hercules." Charlie perked up, looking where I was pointing as he asked, "Where?"

"Right there," I said, grabbing his free hand, using his finger to trace on the sky, "See, those are his legs, body, arm, head, other arm, and his club."

"Wicked," He breathed softly, sweet tendrils of smoke pouring out of his mouth as he turned to look at me, tobacco and clove swirling between us as I looked back. His eyes were heavy, dark, and he started to slowly lean in closer.

"That one's the Corona Borealis," I suddenly stated, pulling away and turning my gaze back up to the stars. I didn't want to look at Charlie's reaction, so I picked up his hand, realizing that I'd never let go of it as I traced the constellation, "It's supposed to be the crown of Ariadne, Dionysus's wife. She was abandoned on an island by a man she thought she loved, and Dionysus saved her, gave her more than the other man ever could because he made her a goddess."

Charlie was silent, and I was nervous, so I pointed out more constellations, "That one is Aquila, Zeus as an eagle who kidnapped the Trojan prince Ganymede to be his slave boy. Ganymede himself is the Aquarius constellation, right there. And that one is Cygnus, the swan. Most people think it's Zeus again, because he raped Leda in the form of a swan, but it's really Orpheus. He was a musician, and a poet, the greatest to ever live. He was in love with a nymph named Eurydice, but she was bitten by a snake before they were married, and she died. He was so sad that he traveled to the underworld, where he played music that was more beautiful than siren song, and Hades' heart was melted. He agreed to let Eurydice come back with Orpheus, but only if he walked all the way to the surface without looking back. He had to just trust that she was following. He made it almost all the way there, but couldn't wait, and turned around just in time to see her shade dissolve away forever. He was later tor... torn apart by Thracian Maenads, and turned into a swan, and carried up to the sky, to be placed beside his lyre, the Lyra constellation, that one right there."

I stopped then, finally starting to feel awkward, letting go of Charlie's hand, sitting back and busying myself with inhaling the last of my cigarette, grabbing and lighting up another.

"Wow," The burly man stated after a few moments, sounding impressed, "Poor Orpheus."

I started cracking up, reporting slyly, "Don't feel too bad. After he lost Eurydice, he swore off women, and started going for children. He's supposed to have been the first sodomite, and an idealized model of pederasty for the Greeks. The Maenads tore him apart for turning them down in favor of 'tender young boys.'"

Even though the backyard was dark, I could see that Charlie turned an absolutely violent shade of red, and that just made me laugh harder.

"Well," He finally managed to comment, "You certainly know quite a lot of astronomy." Still chuckling slightly, I shrugged, "I like stars. Did you know that no matter where in the world you are, the constellations are always the same? I mean, they move, and they're not always in the same positions, but if you know them, you can always look up and find them. They're always... there."

"What if it's cloudy?" He inquired softly, giving me a very intense stare. I paused for a moment, taking a drag off my cigarette. I knew he wasn't asking a question, rather encouraging me to think of an answer.

"Clouds..." I muttered speculatively, staring straight up into the sky, "Clouds will blow away, blow somewhere else, or it'll rain, and they'll be gone, and the stars won't be."

"Ya," Charlie responded, his voice quiet, "Exactly." Neither of us said anything for a long time after that, didn't have to. In between cigarettes, I slowly started to drift closer to him, ended up leaning against his shoulder.

I was half asleep when I suddenly felt something fluttering lightly against my cheek. Slightly startled, I sat up, frowning down at Charlie's chest as he slung an arm around my body to keep me from pulling away entirely.

"What was that?" I asked, confused, and a little sleepy as I poked the spot that was fluttering just underneath his plain gray t-shirt. Charlie frowned, putting his hand there as he asked, "What?"

It took him a moment to figure it out, but when he did, he laughed, "Oh, haha. That." He gently peeled down the collar, revealing a sparkling gold snitch with wildly beating wings etched into his skin.

"Wicked," I remarked, gently touching the design, giggling as it moved and tickled my fingertips, "Enchanted tattoo. When'd you get it?"

"Couple days before I came back here," He reported proudly, taking the bandage off his left bicep, "Was supposed to keep it covered until it started moving, so I guess this can come off now."

I spent another few moments playing with the snitch, which was quite adorable. Without realizing it, I started kind of chasing the little thing down Charlie's shirt, which made him laugh, and squirm, and eventually grab me around the waist so that I wouldn't follow it down the front of his pants.

We were both smiling, giggling as he flipped me down onto the bench and started to tickle me like crazy. It was... nice.

A loud clearing of a throat suddenly broke us out of our fun, making us both turn at the same time to see that Bill was standing over us, glaring. With all those scars, he was one sinister-looking fellow. "Evening," He stated curtly, "Some reason you two are out here making all that noise in the middle of the night?"

"Er..." Charlie began, seeming to suddenly become aware of the fact that he was straddling me, jumping up instantly, "We were... just getting some air."

"Ya," Bill muttered sarcastically, taking a few steps forward to snatch the cigarettes out of both our mouths, throwing them to the floor, and stomping them out, "I'm sure." Charlie blushed, giving me a hand up off the bench as he pleaded, "Just don't tell Mum. I haven't started smoking again, I swear. It was just... um..." Seriously, the boy deals with dragons on an almost daily basis, and he's still afraid of his mummy and big brother? How pathetically cute is that?

"Quiet," Bill ordered sternly, "You know how I feel about it, and you promised you'd stop. You should be setting a better example, not using Leila as an excuse to indulge in your disgusting bad habits. She's young, and vulnerable, and you're taking advantage of her."

I suddenly didn't think Bill was talking about smoking anymore, but was confused as to what he was hinting at. While I was trying to figure it out, Charlie hung his head, blushing as he muttered an ashamed, "I know. Sorry."

"Get inside, little brother," Bill commanded, looking rather dangerous with his mangled face set in a stern scowl, "Put her to bed, and then I'll need a word with you." Charlie gave a discreet nod, steering me back towards the house. Before we left the bench, I slipped the cigarette box into my pocket.

Sometimes, the bad habits are the ones that help you keep on living.


	6. Part 6: Redemption

Part 6 - Redemption

After breakfast the morning following my midnight stargazing session with Charlie, he pulled me aside, and informed me bluntly that he was leaving.

Caught off guard, it took me a few moments to actually understand what he was saying, and when I did the only thing I could say was, "Why?"

"There's, um, been a problem in Romania," He responded, not looking me in the eye, so I knew he was lying, "They need my help... I... I don't know how long I'll be gone." He glanced over my shoulder, and I turned around to see what had caught his attention, and found Bill watching us from the doorway. The tall man had his arms folded across his chest, and a scar-tissue scowl on his face.

"Ya, well," Charlie stuttered, finally looking back down at me, pulling me into a hug as he mouthed his goodbye into my hair, "I have to go now, but I will be back. Don't have too much fun without me, ya?"

I grabbed him hard, trying not to cry as I whispered against his chest, "You promised... you promised you wouldn't leave."

"I'm sorry," He said, holding me tighter, "I know. But I'll be back as soon as I can."

"WELL I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU ANYMORE!" I shouted back, pushing him away, punching him hard in the face, then shoving Bill out of the doorway to flee to my room.

xxXxx

"Lei... Leila..." Two weeks after Charlie left, the people suffering the most from his departure were me, and the Trio... well, probably the Trio just a little more, since I was taking my anger and frustration out on them.

Picking my head up from the book at which I'd been glaring, I shot Ron a dark look. He was completely red in the face, panting, shirtless, and sweating profusely, and he was going to attempt to beg me to let him and his friends finally stop running laps. He'd been making the same attempt for the last several hours, and I really didn't care. If I was going to be miserable, then so were they.

"Keep it moving, Weasley," I growled harshly, "If your ass isn't to the other end of the yard in the next three seconds, I'm grabbing it, and we both remember how upset your little girlfriend gets when I do that." His face paled, and then he took off running again.

I should've laughed, because it was hilarious, but I couldn't. I hadn't laughed since Charlie left, since he broke his promise and reminded me that trusting in anything was a stupid idea.

"That's enough!" I heard a few minutes later, turning to glare as Mrs. Weasley rushed out of the house with Bill at her heels, "You three, stop running this instant! You're going to make yourselves sick! And Leila, what do you think are doing!"

I shrugged, staring blankly up at the old, enraged woman to report, "I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. I thought I was trying to kill Remus, avenge my mother and all, but that didn't work out. Then I thought I was trying to just fucking die, and that didn't go too well either. Now... now I guess I'm just hanging around until you assholes let your guards down and I can get the hell out of here. Then I think I'll probably head somewhere tropical. The Florida Keys are nice this time of year, and not a horrible place in which to develop a drinking problem that will help me get through the remainder of my worthless life. Eventually my liver will give out, or, hopefully sooner than that, I'll finally find someone who can kill me. And then I'm probably in for an eternity in hell. I've sorta done a lot of sinning, what with the murders and all."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had all arrived back near me, and they, along with Mrs. Weasley and Bill, were looking at me like I was a psychopath, which, at the time, I guess I was. Funny...

"So," I chirped with false enthusiasm as I got to my feet, "If you're gonna be saving the three _very special_ musketeers from me now, I think I'll head inside, to look for something sharp you've neglected to hide. Bye."

xxXxx

Moody stopped letting me train the Trio. It may have had something to do with what I said to Mrs. Weasley in the backyard, but it was probably more due to the fact that I was spending a lot of time tying the jump ropes into nooses.

With no more wimps to subject to the horrible torture of physical activity, not to mention no more cigarettes, I was incredibly bored. Even the twins stopped hanging out with me after I stole some nightshade from their potions kit, and they caught me staring rather intently at it. Annoying, nosy bastards.

Alone in my room, I was repeatedly bashing my wrist against the bedpost as I stared blankly at the ugly mauve ceiling. I'm not entirely sure why I was hitting myself. It just seemed like something to do, and it was better than sleeping. I'd been having nightmares again, and I hated waking up screaming more than I hated the gritty, exhausted feel of sleep deprivation. I was just so sick of struggling to find a reason to keep existing, especially when I wasn't entire convinced such a reason existed...

A knock penetrated my foggy mind, and the door opened shortly after. Roo came bouncing in, scrambling up onto my bed, where she then sat on my stomach, and grinned down at me.

"Hi, Leila," She chirped brightly, her big, freckled cheeks dimpled, and cute, and innocent, "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," I responded, slowly letting my fingers skim along the worn leather cover of my mom's journal where it was hidden underneath my pillow, still hitting my already bruised, tender wrist against the wood bedpost.

The little girl gave me a funny look, commenting, "Oh, ok." After another few moments, she requested, "Will you make pigtails in my hair for me?"

I picked my head up to tell her no, but then realized that she was holding out a comb, a pretty, engraved silver one, and I could feel my eyes darkening as my thoughts did the same.

"Sure," I told her, taking the object, not able to meet Roo's eyes because of the thoughts I was having. I knew if I looked at her with the idea running through my head, I wouldn't be able to do it, and the beautiful little ray of innocence would be tainted.

"Sure I will," I told her, forcing a smile, "Why don't you go get some pretty ribbons, ok, hun?" I couldn't look up, but sensed her grin get bigger, brighter, and she bounced off the bed as she called, "OK! Thank you, Leila!"

As soon as she was gone, I dragged the dull metal teeth hard across my left wrist, starting at the heel of my hand and going at an angle half way to my elbow, grating through layers of skin, and sinew, and muscle. It hurt like hell, and I had to do it several times to get the cut deep enough, whimpering and sobbing all the while.

And then it was done. The gash through my arm was there, all the way to the bone, and my blood, hot and sticky, was spurting out in hard pulses, running across my skin in throbbing rivers of life, dripping onto the bedspread and spreading into the material like nothing more than a stubborn stain. Yes, that's what I'd reduced myself to, a stubborn stain.

I got very tired, laying back into my pillows and staring at the ceiling again. My vision turned dim, and then there was nothing.

xxXxx

I didn't expect to wake up, and was frustrated, and angry, and sick as fucking hell when I did. The lights were turned down in my room, but still seemed far too bright for the excruciating, splitting pain in my head, not to mention that the smell of antiseptic had me feeling nauseas within seconds.

I sat up weakly, realizing seconds later that my left wrist was extremely tender, and wrapped in a pristine white bandage. Briefly, I thought of looking under the gauze to see what kind of damage I'd done, but then I realized that I truly didn't care.

Screaming in the hallway outside the room was what I assume woke me, but it took awhile for my head to clear enough for me to be able to decipher it.

"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU!" I frowned, recognizing Charlie's voice, but thinking that it couldn't be him. He'd left for Romania. He'd left me after promising he wouldn't...

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" Bill responded, his voice gruff, and angry, "THIS ISN'T MY FAULT, AND DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO BLAME ME!"

"YOU MADE ME LEAVE!" Charlie shot back, sounding like he was pacing, and furious, and I knew instinctively that he was running his fingers through his short ginger hair, "YOU MADE ME LEAVE, BECAUSE YOU SAID I HAD TO IF I WANTED HER TO BE OK! I BELIEVED YOU! IT WAS HARD, BUT I TRUSTED YOU! YOU MADE ME HURT HER! YOU MADE ME BREAK MY PROMISE! AND THEN YOU LET HER DO THAT TO HERSELF!"

"Please," It was Remus, his voice shaking, and tired, and on edge, a dim little hum vibrating through the door, "Please, just stop shouting. I-It's not going to do any good."

"NO!" Charlie answered, followed by a loud thud that could've only been him punching a wall, "NO, I WON'T STOP SHOUTING! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO WATCH HER! YOU WERE ALL SUPPOSED TO FUCKING WATCH HER!"

"AND YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF HER!" Bill answered in an angry growl, "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BRING HER OUT OF A DEPRESSION, NOT ACT INAPPROPRIATELY TOWARDS A VULNERABLE GIRL, AND PUT US IN THE POSITION WHERE WE _HAD_ TO SEND YOU AWAY, OR YOU WOULD'VE BEEN TAKING ADVANTAGE OF HER EVEN MORE!"

Sounds of a struggle followed, cursing, meaty pounds of fists against flesh, crashes from furniture being overturned. I remember thinking that it was stupid for the usually close brothers to be fighting about something as worthless as me, a stubborn stain on the good sheets, a memory that could be erased with the right detergent. I got really tired again though, so laid back, and slipped off.

xxXxx

"Leila," I woke up later, still feeling sick, to the sound of Charlie's voice at my side. I groaned, barely managing to force my eyes open because my head hurt so fucking much.

The stocky man was sat in a chair on my left, one of his hands holding mine, the other toying with the edge of my bandage as he shot me a tired, relieved smile. "Hi," He said simply, "How are you feeling?"

"Oh fuck," I grumbled shying away from his touch, rolling to face the opposite wall, "I should've known hell would include _you_."

"Leila, stop it," He scolded, sitting on the bed beside me and gently petting my hair back from my face, "You're not dead... Roo found you in time."

I closed my eyes tightly, trying not to cry. I hadn't meant for that sweet little girl to be damaged by my weakness. I hadn't thought for even a second that she would walk in and see.

"She doesn't understand what happened," Charlie continued gravely, his touch on my face and neck starting to seem compulsive, like he was reassuring himself that I was alive, "She found you, and couldn't wake you, and ran for Bill right away. Good thing, too."

"Oh ya, just peachy keen," I muttered sarcastically, forcing down the urge to sob, "Get the fuck out, Charlie."

I could sense him scowl as he responded, "What? No! Leila, you... you just tried to kill yourself! What were you thinking!"

Snorting derisively, I shot back, "I was thinking that I'd kinda like to die, genius, and apparently I took the majority of your brain cells down with me."

Roughly, he shoved me onto my back, pinning me into the bed by my shoulders as he glared dangerously. Despite the fact that I was trying to return a look of hate, I found tears suddenly welling up as I stared at him. His hair was shorter than I remembered, buzzed to stubble, and the clear, infinite blue in his eyes was dulled by the swollen, red blood vessels, and dark circles surrounding them. He seemed quite sick over me, and I found it odd that he cared more about my life than I did.

"Don't turn this into another fucking joke," He growled, trying to be stern despite the fact that his voice shook, "This is serious now. You've moved past sad, and bitter, and right into suicidal, and you are _far_ too good to die like that."

"Well what should I do then, Charlie!" I shot back, the venom I conjured for the statement surprising even to me, the tears on my face feeling like they were corroding my skin, "Should I stick around just because only bad girls kill themselves! Should I wait around to die like my mom! Am I good enough for _that _kind of death, _Charlie!_ You seem to be the expert on me at the moment, so, please, I'd really like to know which deaths are acceptable! SUCH INFORMATION WILL BE CRUCIAL TO MY FUTURE PLANS!"

He looked completely shocked, shocked that I was crying, and yelling, and even that I really wanted to die. I don't know why it was so surprising. I'm not the kind of person to go in for a 'cry for help' suicide attempt.

If I'd wanted help, I would've demanded it.

I wanted to die, so I cut my wrist.

Seriously, it's not that complicated.

However, Charlie still seemed stunned. "Please," He whispered, his eyes getting glassy, "Just... just tell me why."

I pushed him off, and rolled away onto my side again, curling up in a ball as I ordered flatly, "Get out, Charlie."

He didn't, laying down beside me and hugging me tightly against his chest as he growled, "No. I'm not going anywhere. You can't make me."

I wanted to throw him off, to turn and punch him, but instead I started sobbing, hopeless, and clueless, and just so fucking alone.

xxXxx

"Eat."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Now."

"No."

A few weeks of the same exact argument were starting to annoy both Charlie and me, however, since we're equally stubborn, neither of us was willing to give up.

Exasperated, he sighed and placed yet another tray of too much food on my nightstand before sitting down beside me on the bed. "Leila, you have to eat," He scolded gruffly, his hand falling to rest on my waist, "This isn't healthy."

Curled on my side in pretty much the same position I'd been the entire time I'd been in bed, I didn't even bother looking up at him, discreetly running my fingers across the cover of my mom's journal as I responded, "Thank you, Nurse Ratchet." I don't think he understood my pop culture reference, and that just annoyed me even more.

The irritating bastard had barely left me alone since 'the incident,' and I really couldn't understand why he cared about me living so much. I'm mean, and spiteful, and a murder, and a coward. Hell, I couldn't even bring myself to read my mom's journal because I was so afraid of hating her for lying to me.

"What's that?" He suddenly asked, leaning across me, snatching the journal I'd had hidden under my pillow for weeks. I tried to keep him from getting it, but wasn't fast enough.

"GIVE IT BACK!" I shouted, turning around to make a grab for the small book. I saw Charlie smirk slightly as he jumped away, backing up and holding the book over his head as he asked, "Why? What is it?"

"IT'S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!" I screamed, my voice slightly hoarse from disuse. I hurriedly untangled myself from the blankets, standing on the bed as I prepared to tackle Charlie for the journal.

Apparently, blood replenishing potions are not fully effective if you don't eat for several weeks after taking them. Who knew?

As soon as I stood up straight, I got an excruciating head rush, and collapsed weakly right into Charlie's arms.

And then the fucking asshole had the nerve to _laugh at me!_ "Well now," He chuckled, carefully laying me back in bed as I tried to get my head to stop spinning and throbbing, "Seems as though if you want enough strength to get the little book back from me, you're going to need to eat something."

"Bastard," I answered breathlessly, trying to sit up to grab the journal as he dangled it right over my face. He was fucking teasing me! Unfortunately, I couldn't get myself up out of the pillows to do anything about it, and went limp again, crying out of sheer frustration.

In the next few seconds I was propped up right, and had a large tray of food set in front of me. Charlie grinned, sitting back down in his chair beside my bed, settling in and opening my mom's journal as he informed me, "Go ahead and eat up. I'll let you wrestle me for this again when you're feeling a bit better. Remember, small bites, ya? Your stomach probably shrunk, and you'll get sick otherwise."

I glared and cried in silence for a few minutes, then gave up, and shoved an entire sandwich in my mouth at once. If I was going to be forced to eat, then I wasn't going to bother with manners, or listening to what the annoying redhead told me to do.

He just chuckled at my behavior, idly flipping through the journal. After a few moments, his expression went soft, and he asked gently, "This was your mum's?"

I shot him a dark look, trying not to choke on my mouthful of food as I answered, "Ya."

He nodded, slowly leafing through more of it before asking, "She really like poetry, huh?" I swallowed, and immediately felt sick, blinking away tears as I whimpered, "Ya."

"'More Strong Than Time,'" He stated, looking up briefly at me, then back down at the book, "By Victor Hugo."

"Don't," I pleaded, my voice cracking. He didn't listen. Instead, he read me the poem...

_Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,_

_Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,_

_Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,_

_And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;_

_Since it was given to me to hear one happy while,_

_The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,_

_Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,_

_Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;_

_Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,_

_A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,_

_Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream,_

_Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;_

_I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,_

_Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,_

_Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,_

_One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold._

_Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill_

_The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;_

_My heart has far more fire than you have frost to chill,_

_My soul more love than you can make my soul forget._

"STOP IT!" I sobbed, completely hysterical by then, picking up the tray of food on my lap and hurling it at the wall. Charlie jumped as everything shattered, and almost fell off his chair. I tried to get up out of bed, but just kind of fell off the side of it, hitting the floor hard on my hands. My injured wrist gave a stab of protest, causing me to scream.

I heard Charlie moving towards me, so I scrambled away, crawling blindly across the floor until I ran into a corner. With nowhere left to go, I hugged myself, curled into a ball, and cowered pathetically.

"I'm sorry, love," Charlie apologized softly as he knelt down in front of me, gently cupping my whole face in one broad, rough palm as he pressed the journal back into my hands, "I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought... you don't read it, do you?"

I shook my head, sobbing so hard that I'd started to hiccup, and Charlie immediately pulled me tight against his chest. Briefly, I considered shoving him away, of continuing to be alone with my grief, and misery, and desire to die. Instead, I grabbed hold of that man, and resolved to never let go.

xxXxx

A few hours later, I was finally calm, and half asleep, laying across my bed and using Charlie's chest for a pillow.

It was the beginning of summer by then, and my room was swelteringly hot. Charlie'd taken off his shirt, so I had, too, but while I had on a black bra, his chest was bare.

I was quietly tracing constellations in his freckles, musing how like stars they were. If I got to know the patterns, I would always be able to find my way by them. Charlie was staring at anything that wasn't me, seeming slightly uncomfortable by my lack of clothing. It was cute, especially because, even though he wouldn't look at me, he was absentmindedly playing with my bra strap.

We'd been silent for a long time, all of what needed to be said lurking just below the surface even as we took refuge in the brief stretch of calm. I knew he'd eventually ask me to talk to him, to tell him all my demons, but right then it was ok for us to just be lying there together.

Charlie's snitch tattoo fluttered into my line of sight, hovering just over his sternum, and making me smile. It darted forward a few times, tickling my forehead, and cheek, and then my lips. Actually, it spent quite a lot of time on my lips...

Eventually, I sat up, playing with the enchanted design, chasing it all over Charlie's chest and stomach as he squirmed, and laughed. Apparently, he's a bit ticklish, as I discovered when I chased it across his ribs, and he finally grabbed me away from him.

"Don't get it all riled up," He chuckled, gently settling me back against his chest, "I haven't gotten used to it yet, so it still feels kinda weird."

"Mmm," I hummed softly, smiling against his sweaty, tan skin, watching patiently as the snitch came back to harass me. After a few moments, I asked, "Did it hurt?"

"What?" He teased, playing with a lock of my hair, "When I fell from heaven? Leila Kione, I am not the kind of boy to fall for a pick up line as lame as that, and am quite insulted you would think so!"

I giggled and I smacked him, spooking the snitch to zoom to hide near the trail of coarse red hair under Charlie's navel as I responded, "Oh, you _wish_ I thought you were that kind of boy, Weasley! But, no, that's not what I was talking about. I wanted to know if the tattoo hurt when you got it."

"Ah," He answered wistfully, picking my wrist up off his stomach, running his thumb over the edge of the bandage I hadn't dared look under yet, "Ya, but probably less than this did."

I glanced away, going silent as I felt him gently unwrapping the white gauze. It fell away a few seconds later, landing in a coil on Charlie's chest before he tossed it off to the side. Carefully, I felt him turn my wrist over, and then run his thumb along the trail of the slanted slash mark I made there.

I finally gathered the courage to look, and when I did, found that the gruesome, bloody gash was no more. I had a thin, faint scar, and that was it.

"Remus is quite talented with healing charms," Charlie informed me blankly as he surrendered the skin for my inspection. I ran my fingers over the remnants of the thing that almost took my life, blinking back tears as he went on, "He's patched me up more times than I care to remember, probably could've left no scar at all if he hadn't been shaking so badly... if he hadn't been so terrified of losing you again..."

I got a brief mental flash of Remus up to his elbows in my blood, and couldn't help the involuntary, sympathetic shudder that followed. Maybe I wasn't as indifferent to my father as I thought. Charlie gently swept my hair off my neck, ghosting his fingertips over the flesh he exposed, making me shudder once more, but it was a nicer feeling one than the first, so I didn't mind.

"He really loves you," Charlie stated thoughtfully, "A lot." I closed my eyes, "I know."

More silence came over us, and the snitch came back, brushing against my lips again as Charlie continue to make me shudder against him. Finally, I stated, "I want a tattoo. Will you take me?"

He tensed, and I knew he was about to say no, to remind me of all the completely valid reasons why he wouldn't be able to. I sat up, and looked down into his clear blue eyes, an absolutely open, vulnerable expression on my face.

He caved, giving me a mesmerized smile as he answered, "I'd be honored."

xxXxx

We didn't talk about our plans too much. I'm sure if we had then we would've both thought of the fact that I was still warded into the house, that Remus wasn't likely to let me out to go for a tattoo, especially not when I'd just tried to kill myself.

It didn't matter. All the reasons why it couldn't happen were completely overshadowed because I wanted it, and Charlie promised it to me, and we were going to find a way.

I had to make a deal with him, of course, that I wouldn't hurt myself ever again, that I wouldn't keep closing myself off, that I'd let him help me get better. As long as I held up my end of the deal, he was going to see that I got my tattoo. He had to remind me a lot, remind me what I really wanted in order to keep me going. It was hard, but I'm more thankful than I can ever express to that man for doing what he did, for helping me want to live again.

Just a week after he promised me the tattoo, I was eating and bathing without having to be ordered, I was talking, and I was even laughing. I didn't cry quite so much, but I was still hurting, and I still did sometimes. Charlie made me feel like it was ok, like even though I would probably hurt forever, the scars on my mind would fade to almost nothing, just like the one on my wrist.

Too bad I couldn't use magic on them to get it over with faster.

When I finally decided that I was feeling good enough to leave my room and interact with the other residents of Grimmauld Place, I was just in time to walk in on the preparations for lunch. All the other awkward silences I'd spawned during my stay there were nothing compared to that one. Mrs. Weasley, and Sirius, and Bill, and Roo were husking corn, and when I walked in they all stared at me like I was a ghost. It was way weird.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to speak, sending me a teary smile as she greeted, "Hello dear. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, ma'am," I answered politely, allowing Charlie to guide me farther into the room with a hand at the small of my back. I tried to return her smile, but I'm sure it must've seemed forced because Sirius gave me a look of pity, and Roo immediately chirped brightly, "Do you feel better now, Leila?"

"I-I think so," Was my response, slightly unnerved by the way Bill was glaring. I assumed he was probably mad about his daughter being the one to find me, and that I'd used her comb to hurt myself, but, on closer inspection, I realized that he wasn't glaring at me. He was glaring at Charlie, which was quite odd. Charlie wasn't doing anything except walking behind me with his hand on my back...

"We're helping take the wrappers off the corn!" Roo announced, her voice bubbly, and friendly as she bounced forward to take me from her uncle, pulling me back to the table, "Will you help us? Granny said that the sooner we get all the corn unwrappered, the sooner we can cook it! We're gonna have a barbeque outside today, and I like corn on the cob!"

I sheepishly looked around the room, barely able to meet anyone's eyes before smiling gently, taking a seat as I said, "Sure. I'd love to help."

"Charlie, can I have a word with you?" Bill growled as he got up out of his chair, grabbing his brother by arm and dragging him out of the room before he had a chance to answer. It was a bit strange, but nothing I was too concerned over, especially since Roo was bursting for my attention.

"Here!" She instructed stuffing an ear of corn into my hands before picking up one of her own and demonstrating, "You peel it like this, and then put the wrapper in the big pile!" I found myself smiling at her enthusiasm for such a trivial little chore, and quickly got to work helping, allowing her to chatter on about anything and everything as we worked. It was my first step back into some semblance of normality, and it felt good.

When we were finished, Mrs. Weasley commended our efforts, and Sirius made some excuse make an exit. I was left to watch Roo while Mrs. Weasley cooked. The little girl was still babbling, and, kind of without realizing it, I instinctively grabbed a bunch of corn husks.

It took Roo a few minutes to notice that I wasn't fully paying attention to her, and when she did she, asked inquisitively, "What are you doing?"

I smiled softly, folding, and cutting, and tying the husks as I told her, "When I was six, my mommy took me with her on a dig in New York. We stayed on an Indian reservation, with the Seneca people, and a nice old woman, Mrs. Snow, used to look after me. She taught me how to make corn husk dolls, so I'm making one for you."

I was finished with the little dolly then, and smiled down at its blank face for a few moments before turning and give it to Roo. Her eyes went wide, and I said softly, "Here. Just don't draw a face on it. See, there was once a very vain doll, and the Great Spirit punished her by taking away her face, so that she couldn't see herself, or talk to the animals, or other Seneca. It's her punishment to always be looking for redemption for her crime."

Roo nodded, happily bouncing the doll across the table a few times before looking up at me and asking, "What's _vain?_" I smiled, "It means she cared too much about herself, and not enough about other people."

"And what's _re-depm-shin_?" The girl went on, prompting me to chuckle at her butchery of the word. "It means..." I answered softly, trying to think of a way of explaining such a complicated idea to the toddler, "It means saying sorry, and being forgiven for all the bad things you've done."

"Oh," She answered, looking speculative for a few moments, then grinning up at me, and reporting, "I'll help the dolly get re-demp-shin. I forgive her already. Can she have a face now?"

I laughed, ruffling Roo's hair as I reported, "Not quite yet, sweetie. You're not the only one she hurt. All the people have to forgive her."

"Oh," Once again, the girl seemed like she was thinking hard, finally asking once more, "Well, who else did she hurt? I can go and tell them how sorry she is!"

"Don't worry," I spoke gently, out of the corner of my eye seeing Remus rush into the room, "She'll do it herself. She has to do it herself."

My father approached me slowly, his throat working convulsively and his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he could, smiling gently as I greeted, "Hi, Remus." After gaping for another few moments, he answered with a soft, slightly shell-shocked, "Hello."

I wanted to talk to him. I mean, I knew I should. He saved me, and as complicated as a relationship with him was going to be, I really couldn't think of a way around one anymore that didn't rest solely on my own selfishness and hate. I didn't want to be like that.

Unfortunately, just as I was about to suggest we take a walk together, the twins came thundering into the kitchen, and tackled me in tandem. They were happy to see me. Of course, I was happy to see them, too, but could have done without the half hour interrogation session, not to mention their attempts at inspecting my injury, especially since they were under the convenient impression that I'd done something to my boobs...

I didn't get a chance to talk to Remus before, or during dinner. I was going to try for afterwards, but I got really tired, and almost fainted, so Charlie insisted that he be allowed to put me to bed. I didn't feel like arguing, and was asleep just a few minutes after he carried me to my room.

xxXxx

Someone put a sleeping potion in my dinner, and that someone was Mrs. Weasley. I remember her making comments while we were eating that I looked pale, and was I sleeping enough. I wasn't, but it was really no excuse for her to drug me.When the potion wore off, I started having a nightmare, and woke up screaming again. Charlie had laid down at my side, as he had most of the nights he'd watched me fall asleep, and he was sleeping, too, until my crying woke him.

"What's wrong, love?" He asked, his voice rough from sleep, but still concerned. I tried to ignore the fact that it made my insides feel warm. I'd been trying to ignore that fact for several days. Sitting up to slip his arm around my shoulders, he pressed, "What happened? Another bad dream?"

Still attempting to talk myself out of hysterics, I nodded, hugging Charlie around the neck, and burying my face against his chest. He grabbed me tight, rocking me gently and petting my hair as he soothed, "Shhh, it's ok now. It was just a dream. I'm here, and you're safe."

"Y-Your mum drugged me," I accused some time later, when I was finally just resting exhaustedly against his firm body. He chuckled, running his fingers through my hair one final time before letting his hand trail down to brush the tears out of my eyes as he stated, "Ya, she did. I'm sorry, love. I only realized after you started getting groggy. I'll talk to her tomorrow, and it won't happen again." I sniffled pitifully, nodding and agreeing, "Ok."

"Ok," Charlie responded, dragging me back down to lay beside him, bringing the blankets back over our bodies, and settling us in. Once we were both comfortable, we sat in silence for awhile. I was almost asleep again when he finally asked softly, "What happened in your dream?"

"It was the tinman one again," I whispered faintly, opening my eyes to stare at the same blackness that was behind them. I could feel Charlie's heart beating hard under my cheek, and even the snitch tattoo fluttering light across my legs wherever my bare skin was touching his. He was warm, almost too warm for such a sweltering night, but still almost disturbingly pleasant.

"Oh," He responded blankly, and I knew that his eyes were open too, that he was staring into the dark just like I was. We were seeing the same thing, the same way, and I suddenly felt eerily connected with him, like by accidentally welcoming the same blackness into our minds we had also accidentally welcomed in each other. It was an odd feeling. Definitely good, but very, very odd.

I never thought I would like the idea of someone else in my mind, but with Charlie it was ok, and I really couldn't begin to explain, or even understand why.

Almost at the same time, we both gave an involuntary shudder. We held each other tighter, wordlessly trying to chase a phantom chill from the other's body, both trying to understand where a chill could have come from on such a hot, hot night.

xxXxx

I felt a lot better in the morning. I was up at daybreak, woken by the sun coming through a crack in the curtains and falling conveniently across my eyes. Instead of being annoyed, I was kind of... glad to be awake... and alive.

For awhile, I was content with lying in Charlie's arms, listening him snore, and his heart beating strong. Eventually though, I did try to get up, and as soon as I did Charlie's grip on my body tightened. I could feel him frown as he nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head, growling a very gruff, possessive, "_Mine_."

I couldn't help chuckling as I continued trying to squirm out of his grasp, but my amusement faded when it became very clear that he wasn't going to let me go. Generally, I have a policy against waking people. I mean, I like sleep (when I'm not having nightmares, anyways), and hate when I get pulled from it prematurely, so I assume that others hold the same preferences, and try to honor them.

When my bladder is about to burst, however, I can make exceptions to the rule. "Charlie," I whispered urgently, jabbing him in the ribs several times, "Charlie, let go."

All I got for my troubles was a grunt, and a sleepy snort. It was time to resort to drastic measures. "_Charlie_," I whined, wriggling about as I continued trying to escape. I got frustrated rather quickly though, and did the first thing that came to mind: I bit him. Hard. On his shoulder.

Perhaps it wasn't the wisest, or nicest thing to do, but I was desperate. And it did work. Charlie jumped, squeaking in a rather unmanly way before flailing wildly, and knocking us both out of the bed.

"Ow!" I complained, fully aware that he had to have been hurt worse by the impact, seeing as how he landed hard on the floor, and my fall was cushioned by his comfy body. I was still more than happy to use the opportunity to tease him a little. "Merlin, Charlie," I went on, sitting up, straddling the disoriented redhead's stomach, pouting down at his confused face, "What was that for?"

"I... uh..." He stuttered dumbly, still peering around, trying to figure out what was going on, "Wait... how did we get down here?"

His gaze suddenly turned to me, and he seemed to finally notice that I was sitting on him. The poor man turned beet red, and I giggled, tweaking his nose as I stated sweetly, "We got down here by you rolling us out of the bed, stud. Mind letting me go now?"

"Oh," He yelped, immediately releasing the hold he had on my hips, and licking his lips nervously, "Ya, sorry. You wanna go back back to bed?"

"Nah," I responded as I jumped to my feet, giving Charlie a hand up from the floor, "I was already awake. I think I'll take a shower, and get an early breakfast."

He sleepily scratched at his short ginger hair, yawning, "Alright, love. I'll be right in here if you need me." Then he slung one of his muscular arms around my shoulders, and tugged me in to kiss my forehead, as he'd done on many occasions. Only that time he had his eyes closed, and I turned towards him at the wrong moment, and he kissed me right on the mouth.

It took both of us longer than it should have to pull away. I mean, accidental kisses that mean nothing generally end fairly quickly. This one did not.

In the first few seconds, we did nothing; we stood there, both processing the fact that our lips were pressed together. Charlie tightened the arm he had around my shoulders, and I got pulled flushed against his firm body. My hands fisted against the bare skin at his sides, scrambling for something to hold onto as I tilted my face up, subconsciously leaning into the kiss.

I don't know if it was shock, or something more, but a slow, delicious shiver ran all the way down my spine. I may have even hallucinated a low moan from Charlie.

And then just like that it was over. We literally _jumped_ away from each other, landing about six feet apart, both with the same expression of wide-eyed surprise that veiled the deeper, needier emotions.

"Sorry!" Charlie shouted immediately, turning redder than I'd ever seen him turn before, "I'm so sorry! I... I didn't mean to do that!"

"Ok," I mumbled, nodding blankly, unsure if I was relieved, or disappointed by that information, and trying to make my head stop spinning as I slowly backed out of the room.

xxXxx

Later, in the shower, letting the hot water slide over my bare body, I was still completely speechless. Hell, I was almost uncertain if it had really happened. It felt like I'd imagined the whole thing, and if it hadn't been for the fact that my lips were still tingling, I probably would've written the event off as just another crazy dream.

But they were still tingling, and my heart was pounding, and my skin felt hot in a way that had nothing to do with the water. I caught myself absentmindedly touching my fingertips to my lips for the third time in only a few minutes, and suddenly knew that I was in really big trouble.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kk, hope yal have been enjoying yourself. This will be the last installment for awhile cuz im going away tomorrow. When I get back I promise to post lots more, so how bout reviewing to inspire me? Yes, I agree, that is a very good idea.


	7. Part 7: Taboos

Part 7 - Taboos

After my shower, I was still incredibly distracted by Charlie kissing me. I mean, I knew it was an accident, and that it meant nothing to him, but I felt something, and that was extremely disturbing. I couldn't like Charlie, not like that, especially not then, when he saw me as some weak little girl he constantly had to save. That's not how I wanted anyone to see me. That's not who I am. Well, I was hoping it wasn't who I'd turned into...

Dressed in faded black jeans, and a red Ninja Turtles t-shirt I'd had since I was ten, I wandered down to the kitchen in a complete daze. It was early; I didn't expect anyone else to be up. Since Mrs. Weasley drugged my food the night before, I was a bit sore at her, and had resolved to cook my own meals from then on.

The only problem with the plan was that I can't cook. Trekking the world doesn't exactly call for culinary skills, and I could usually get by on granola bars, and whatever native delicacies were being served in local marketplaces. Either that, or pop-tarts. I do love pop-tarts.

Unfortunately, Grimmauld Place wasn't stocked with pop-tarts, or any other ready-to-eat breakfast foods. Everything required assembly, and after the fourth piece of toast I burned, and the third fried egg I accidentally stuck to the ceiling, I was a bit frustrated, and just about ready to give up. I probably would have had more luck foraging in the backyard than I was having trying to make sense of the kitchen.

"Um, what are you doing?" I jumped when I heard a soft voice behind me. I turned, and there was Remus in the doorway, surveying me with a confused, yet adoring expression.

With a weak smile, I admitted, "Trying to make something to eat, though I'm not having much luck."

"Oh," He responded, still standing motionless across the room, looking surprisingly well-groomed for so early in the morning, "Well, Molly should be up soon. I'm sure she'd be happy to fix you something."

"Ya, I don't think so," I reported, distracted by yet another grease fire that I had to put out, "She kinda drugged me last night, and I'm not too keen on letting her handle my food anymore." A tense silence followed, and I took care of the miniature inferno on the stove. It's a good thing wizards don't have smoke detectors, I probably would've set off every single one in the house.

Finally, Remus cleared his throat, getting my attention and then offering sheepishly, "Um, if... if you want, I could take you out for breakfast in town." Giving him a weak smile, I nodded, agreeing, "Ok. I'd like that.

His yellowy-amber eyes went wide, and he stuttered in surprise, "Y-You would! Really!" Chuckling, I responded with a flippant, "That's what I said. Now come on, old man, I'm starving."

xxXxx

"I can't believe nothing's open!" After a long, rather awkward walk to, and then through the small muggle town Grimmauld borders, Remus and I discovered that we were far too early for every single restaurant.

Glaring at my father, I growled, "I was gonna look for berries in the backyard, but NOOOOO! Remus wants to take me for breakfast in town! This is what I get for trying to be nice to you!"

Ignoring the hostile tone, a slow, hopeful grin spread over his tired features, and he asked, "You were trying to be nice to me?"

"Shut up!" I growled, huffily throwing myself down on a short brick wall outside a dinky little diner that would hopefully open within the hour, "You're not making this any easier!"

"Sorry," He answered softly, sitting down beside me, his thin shoulders hunched as he nervously ran his hands through his graying blonde hair, "I'm just... surprised..."

Shrugging, staring at my toes, I mumbled, "Ya, well, hating you is a lot harder than it used to be." I smiled, sarcastically adding, "Thanks a fucking lot for not turning out to be a dick."

He blushed, apologizing once more, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll have to work on that." I groaned, "See what I mean! You're too goddamn nice! You don't get mad when I try to kill you, or tell you that I hate you, and you honestly are going to try to be more of a dick just for me, aren't you!"

"Um..." He stuttered, looking like he was thinking hard before responding cautiously, "Is there any _right_ way to answer that question?"

I stared at my father for a few long moments, then sent him a sideways smirk as I laughed, "No. I guess not."

"Well," He answered, joining in my amusement at the situation with a small smile, "I'm glad you're giving me a chance." I shot back a smirk, "Just don't blow it, cuz you only get one."

He paled, and, despite knowing that it was a very mean thing to do, I laughed. "Kidding," I assured him shortly later, watching his expression become less completely terrified, "Jebus, Larry, and the Faint! (my twisted take on 'Jesus, Mary, and the Saints,' in case you were wondering; a Simpsons, Three Stooges, and rock band reference if you were still confused) Quit being so neurotic, dude!"

The poor man looked puzzled, however, I saw the closed sign being flipped to open out of the corner of my eye, and immediately jumped to my feet, shouting excitedly, "Fuckin' HELL YES! It's about damn time!"

Five minutes later, we were seated across from each other in a corner booth, distracted by sticky menus while an annoyed waitress stood over us, loudly snapping her gum, and tapping her foot, one aproned hip jutting far out to the side.

"Chocolate chip pancakes," Remus ordered politely, "With whipped cream, chocolate chips, chocolate sprinkles, and hot fudge on top, please."

Stunned, I starred at him dumbly for a few moments, then turned to the waitress, handing over my menu as I stated, "I'll, uh, have the same." How fucking eerie is it that we both thought to order the exact same breakfast? Seriously, that is like twilight zone shit.

"Two hyperactive four-year-old specials coming up," The unpleasant, bleach-blonde woman grumbled sarcastically as she jotted down a note, and then stomped away. I made a face at her retreating form, muttering curtly, "Bitch."

"That was a bit rude," Remus agreed softly, keeping his voice down, "It's not our faults chocolate tastes good."

I laughed, "Damn right." After the initial tension, this outing was proving enjoyable. I guess I had more in common with my father than I thought.

"So, um," I offered, thinking it was about time I got to know more of this man, "I don't really know that much about you..."

He smiled, looking so incredibly happy that he probably would've burst. "What do you want to know?" He asked, giving the impression that he would willingly tell me anything I asked.

However, I couldn't really think of anything specific. We sat in awkward silence while I mulled over the possibilities, and, during that time, the bitchy waitress brought our breakfasts. I got a great idea.

"Can we have a bottle of chocolate syrup, too, please?" I requested, sending the woman a sickly sweet smile when she scowled. She then stomped off without a word, and came back with a big bottle of chocolate syrup, which she slammed on the table before leaving once more.

"Someone needs mood stabilizers," I commented, taking a few large bites of my heavenly pancakes, and then asking Remus, "Want to play chocolate syrup I never?"

His mouth was full, so, even though he smiled, he chewed thoroughly and swallowed completely before answering with a nostalgic laugh, "I haven't played that game since I was at Hogwarts, but sure." He licked some whipped cream off the corner of his mouth, then grinned devilishly, and began with, "I never let my friends get me so drunk playing I never that I woke up hanging by my ankle from a statue of Boris the Bewildered, wearing nothing but a pair of mysterious purple panties." While I was laughing at the top of my lungs from that interesting little tidbit, he grabbed the syrup bottle, and poured himself a mouthful.

"Your turn," He stated with a smirk, looking very content as he licked more chocolate off his lips. Shaking my head, I took the bottle and stated, "I never got in a fight with a street mime that resulted in being permanently banned from three square blocks in Paris."

While Remus threw his head back with laughter, turning red in the face, I turned the chocolate syrup upside down and squirted some into my mouth. I missed a little because I was also laughing, dribbling chocolate on my chin. It was very fun though, so I didn't really mind.

We continued in that fashion for awhile. Remus countered my mime story with one of his own about getting groped by Sirius one Halloween that he'd decided to dress as Marilyn Monroe. I came back with the delightful tale of a time when I was eight years old, and tried to smuggle a baby sea turtle out of Puerto Rico to be my pet. Next, Remus told me how, when he and Sirius were babysitting him, they dropped Harry on his head, and covered up the large bruise from Lily by drawing on the baby's face with permanent ink, and telling his mother that he'd done it himself. Still giggling, thinking that being dropped on his head as a baby _would_ explain Harry, I preceded to relate how my friend Joaquin (pronounced Wa-Keen, for all you gringos out there) and I once stole a car when we were thirteen, went joyriding, and accidentally drove ourselves off a bridge, right into a lake. Remus didn't really like that story...

"Aw, it was no big deal," I soothed, licking more chocolate syrup off my lips, then dragging my fingers through the last of the hot fudge left on my empty plate, "We weren't hurt or anything, and we never got caught. Turns out it was a drug dealers car anyways." His yellowy-amber eyes went wide, and he spluttered, "That's even worse! Where was your mother!"

The comment hurt a bit, and I could tell he regretted it as soon as he left his mouth. However, I took a deep breath to keep from getting angry, and responded, "She was on the dig site. Aztec artifacts, you know."

"Right," He stated, looking down into his own empty plate, "Sorry." Since we were finished then, with our meals and the game, Remus paid the check, and we got up and left. It kind of sucked. Here we were making all that progress, and that one taboo subject had to go ruin it all. I didn't like that, so, halfway back to Grimmauld, I decided I'd change it.

"What was she like when you were in school?" I asked softly, uncertain if I wanted to go down this road, but willing to try. Remus seemed very surprised, and also uncertain. I can't blame him. I mean, every single time he'd so much as made reference to her I ended up either attacking him, or crying uncontrollably.

"Smart," Was his first comment, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Unbelievably brilliant, and... very caring. She wanted to work with injured animals for a time."

"I didn't know that," I stated, not even thinking twice about interrupting, and trying my best not to get angry. Remus knew things about her that I didn't, and it wasn't fair, but it wasn't his fault either. I could hate him, or I could hear him out. I chose to hear him out.

As he ran his slender fingers through the crop of gray-blonde hair on the top of his head, the old man smiled wrly, and told me, "Well, in the end, she decided that treasure hunting was far more her style."

I smiled in reply, my eyes getting wet as I thought about how true that statement was. Mom really did love the work she did as a cursebreaker. She'd uncover an artifact that no one had touched in thousands of years, and it was like the ultimate high for her. "What else?" I pressed, eager now to know more. It's funny, I thought I knew my mom, but, really, there was a big part of her life that was closed off to me, the part with Remus in it. Just like she was the taboo subject between him and me, he was the taboo subject between her and me. It was suddenly a huge regret, having something Mom and I never talked about, that we effectively ignored. She was gone, and I'd never hear what she had to say, but at least I could rely on Remus to fill in some of the information.

"Had a bit of a wild side," He went on, chuckling, staring straight out in front of himself as he walked along deep in thought, "And I think she really just enjoyed being around people. She loved to talk, and she was everyone's friend..."

"Ya," I agreed, smiling slightly as I also began to stare blankly, "She always was a sociable little thing." Even though I still felt like crying, thinking about my mom no longer made me quite as sad as it used to. That's progress, right? That meant I was healing?

Remus and I walked along in silence, both deep in our own memories, alone but together in our love for the same woman. I only noticed that we'd made it back to Grimmauld when I felt the shimmer of magic from force field warding me back in to the manor.

"Oh," He gasped softly, realizing the same fact for himself, seeming slightly disoriented by having spaced out for so long. I wasn't. I was used to it by then.

"Thank you for breakfast," I stated sweetly, smiling as we continued up the walkway towards the front door, "Next one's on me, ya?"

The smile that lit up that man's face was utterly priceless. He looked happy enough to cry, and did tear up a little bit as he responded sincerely, "I would love nothing more."

xxXxx

Breakfasts with Remus became a regular thing, and the days started to pass a lot more quickly. I got back into, like, a routine, you know? Breakfast, training the Trio, lunch, quiet time in the library, dinner, tv, bed. It was boring, and quite domestic, but very relaxing, and probably just what I needed after so many years of chaos, of never even knowing where in the world I would be in a day's time.

Even though I thought things would be weird between Charlie and me, after that kiss and all, they really weren't. He sort of pretended like it didn't happen, so I did the same. It totally worked for us, and we were back to our old relationship, just friends (even though I acknowledged to myself that I may have had a slight crush on him).

Aside from my mom, Charlie is the best friend I have _ever_ had. He cared about me so much, and barely ever left me alone. Even when I was just reading, he sat at my side, patient, quiet, not seeming bored despite the fact that he never picked up a book himself. He just... watched me... the stranger part is that I didn't even mind...

I was becoming more myself again, healing back to the way I was before my mom was murdered. I was quieter, more introverted. I didn't talk quite as much, or pick as many fights. I was sweet, and polite, and... calm.

My naturally observant nature was sharpened back to its abnormally high level, and it didn't take me very long to figure out that my father was a werewolf. After working past my hate for him, something so trivial didn't even matter. I had a father who loved me, who I could finally look at without wanting to kill, so what was a little lycanthropy?

I also finally noticed about Bill and Roo. They weren't quite werewolves though. They'd disappear during full moons, but they were never locked up, and I never saw them taking wolfsbane. I wasn't sure what they were until Charlie took the time to explain it to me.

Transformed werewolves have venom in their saliva. The venom transfers a mutagen and a virus to the victim of the bite. During the first month, the mutagen and the virus are in the victim's bloodstream, but by the time of his first full moon, the mutagen will have actually changed his DNA, and then died off. The victim is altered on a genetic level; a gene is inserted which allows his body to make the transformation during full moons, as well as produce the mutagen during that time. The virus, still in his system, reacts to the perception of full-moon light, and prompts the transformation gene to do its thing. When the victim stops sensing moonlight, the virus prompts the gene to make him transform back into a human.

However, Bill Weasley was not bitten by a transformed werewolf. He was mauled by a wolfman named Fenrir Greyback. The venom in the saliva of an untransformed werewolf contains the virus, but not the mutagen that is found in that of transformed werewolves. When Bill was attacked, the virus was spread to him, but not the mutagen, so he never got the transformation gene.

Good news, right? Wrong. The virus itself is still in his body, and there is no cure for it. On full moons, it still tries to make his body transform. Unfortunately, since he doesn't possess the genetic capability to do so, he is caused excruciating pain as the virus attacks him from the inside out.

Remus once told me that werewolf transformations hurt like your body ripping apart and then putting itself back together with all the edges still raw so you can do it again in a few hours. It hurts, but the worst of the pain is over in less than five minutes. Bill suffers through those worst five minutes for two to three nights a month.

And since there is so little research on the effects of lycanthropy, especially incomplete lycanthropy, no one was able to predict that Bill would pass the virus onto his daughter. I'm the child of a full werewolf, so my existence was a genetic crapshoot. I had a fifty-fifty chance of either being born a werewolf, or being born a human. I totally lucked out.

Roo never had that chance. No one realized until after she was born that Bill's unique half-lycanthropy would be passed to his daughter, that he had given her his virus. I always thought that Roo got her nickname from her middle name, Ruby, but, in actuality, they call her Roo because it's a lot shorter than calling her little wolf, or wolf cub, as the twins prompted everyone to do when she was first born.

"Like, _AROOOOO!_" Charlie explained, laughing self-consciously, and threading his fingers through his short, ginger hair, trying to flatten the back, "Like a wolf howling, you know? It's kind of silly, but just... I dunno, caught on. Especially when she got a little older and couldn't say Arielle the right way."

I smiled softly, curling up against his side, resting my head against his shoulder as I stated, "I don't think it's silly at all. It's sweet."

"Well, that's not what Fleur thought," My redheaded companion remarked quietly, keeping his voice low, and looking around the library for anyone who might overhear our conversation, "Used to go off on anyone who didn't 'call her daughter zee name she gave her!'"

Even though I didn't know her, the impression of the Frenchwoman had me giggling as I stretched my legs alongside Charlie's, and wriggled my toes. He seemed to like that I laughed, joining in as he put an arm around my shoulders, lightly pinching my ribs, and flexing his own bare, freckled, rather large feet where they were resting a dozen or so inches away from mine on the footstool.

"Anyways," He finally stated, pulling me closer, and resting his head on top of mine, "Roo has the same problems Bill does, and she's had them since she was a baby. We always knock her out for the worst of it, and then she gets to spend a few days camped out with her daddy, so she's barely even affected. We're still not sure what will happen in the long run, but it works for now, and we figure we'll take what's to come when it comes. Fleur though, she decided after only the second moon Roo went through that she couldn't deal with watching her child suffer..."

Charlie trailed off, suddenly very speculative, staring blankly in front of himself. "One day, she... uh..." He murmured, seeming to have trouble with getting the words to come as he became increasingly more choked up, "She tried to _put her out of her misery_."

"KILL HER!" I shrieked, whirling to look Charlie straight in his sad blue eyes. I was utterly horrified that any mother could do that to her child. What kind of evil bitch is capable of that kind of callous cruelty!

"Ya," The young man answered, still reclining lazily against the squashy indigo couch cushions, "She got really depressed after Roo was born, even before we realized about the lycanthropy. She kept saying that it wasn't right to let her daughter suffer. We all thought she was imbalanced, you know? Hermione even said that it's a real psychological disorder, and that muggles have a name for it... uh... post... post-something..."

"Postpartum depression?" I offered cautiously. He nodded, "Ya, that's the one. We thought she had it, and that she was dangerous, but Bill wouldn't listen. He was totally in denial, and just kept saying that she was stressed out, that with time she'd adjust..."

Charlie was far too calm about this story. He should've been completely incensed, like I was. But then I somehow realized that he must have exhausted his anger awhile ago, that a person can only be filled with rage at something for so long before they just accept that it is the way it is.

"And then one night, about a week before the third full moon after the birth," He continued quietly, barely able to meet my stare, "Bill walked in on her trying to smother Roo with a pillow."

I swear, my heart fucking _stopped_. Like, I'm not just saying that. I mean _literally_. Tears sprang up into my eyes, but Charlie didn't see. His gaze was blank and distant as he went on, "Bill was in time to stop Roo from getting hurt, and never left Fleur alone with her again. Hell, he wouldn't even let the woman touch her..."

"I should fucking hope not," I whispered, so quiet that Charlie didn't even notice my voice shake with pent up sobs. He nodded in agreement, and then continued, "Well, anyways, the full moon came around, and we were all so busy looking after Bill, Roo, and Remus that no one even saw when Fleur left, but she was suddenly just gone. She went back to France, and none of us has heard from her since. Bill goes and checks in on her every once in awhile, but she won't talk to him. They still haven't divorced yet, and he's still so fucking in love with her, even after everything she did. The only person he even acknowledges her to is Roo. He likes telling her stories about her mum, tells her that she was beautiful, and smart, and just nice stuff like that. Otherwise though, if anyone else brings her up, he goes off. He can't deal with that subject at all. I don't know if it's psychological, or part of the bite, but he has a real horrible temper now."

I laughed dryly, swiping furiously at my eyes as I commented, "Ya, just a little."

Charlie suddenly snapped himself out of the far off stare, finally noticing how upset his story had made me. "Hey," He cooed, reaching up to tenderly cup my face in his rough palm, "Don't cry, love. It's not that bad."

"Yes, it is!" I argued heatedly, unable to stop myself from getting overly emotional because the tale had hit so close to home, "She doesn't have a mother now! What's gonna happen to her!"

He regarded me carefully for a long, silent stretch of minutes, then answered softly, "She'll be fine because she has all of us, and we love her very much."

I don't know how he does it, but Charlie always thinks of the right thing to say. His assertion immediately had me feeling better, backing down from the pre-hysterical stage I had entered. I trusted him, so if he said Roo would be fine, Roo would be fine. If he said a large, loving extended family could allow a girl to survive without a mother, then she could.

I didn't realize until that moment just how much I identified Roo with myself, and just how wrong I was to do it. Sure, she was motherless like I was, but she had so many other people who cared about her that it almost didn't matter. I only had my mom. And then I lost her. And then I had no one.

But I didn't have no one anymore. I had Remus, and Charlie, and Bill, and Roo, and the twins, and even Mrs. Weasley wasn't so bad when she wasn't drugging my food. Why hadn't I seen it before? They loved me. They cared about me. It mattered to them whether I lived or died.

"You're right," I stated, sounding dumbly surprised by the discovery. Stupid, smug bastard Charlie smirked before tugging me back down to his side, resting my head against his shoulder, and running his fingers through my hair with a touch so soft that it made me shiver. "Of course I'm right," He announced, interrupting himself with a big, long, jungle cat yawn before continuing, "Now, I think I fancy a nap. Little Roo woke me up at three o'clock this morning to tell me she had a dream where I had blurry eyes, and then wouldn't let me go back to sleep until I watched _the Little Mermaid_ with her."

"Aw, poor thing," I teased, cuddling against him as I let my eyes drift shut, "Is that little girl picking on you?"

Laughing, he gave my ribs another light pinch, making me squirm as he scolded, "Cheeky brat..."

xxXxx

I almost forgot my mom's birthday, and it freaked me out so badly that I nearly had another breakdown.

I woke up that morning feeling perfectly fine, even better than fine because I'd slept without nightmares, which was not entirely unusual, but still an achievement. I got out of bed, and took a nice shower, and then sat in the kitchen, reading a book while I waited for Remus to come down so we could go to breakfast. I would have remained unaware that it was the thirtieth day of June had there not been a large calendar on the wall with all the dates leading up to that particular one crossed off by big red X's.

I was slightly confused when I saw that, never having noticed it before, and it took several long, puzzling moments for me to piece together what it meant.

And then I remembered, and wanted to kick my own ass for forgetting in the first place. How could I do that to her? How could I just let her slip my mind? She was far too important to me for that to happen.

Feeling guilty and sick, I made up my mind within seconds about what I would do that day.

Remus had totally let his guard down about the wards, and it was very easy to snatch the two bracelets off his dresser without waking him. Once I had those, a jacket, some cash, and my mom's journal, I bolted.

In town, I bought a bouquet of flowers, and then used the portkey on my mom's journal to take me to her grave.

It was snowing in Chile, and I had to wade through three feet of powder, wind blowing more stinging flakes into my face as I slowly approached her grave. "Hey, Momma," I joked, trying to keep my tone light despite the fact that I wanted to cry. I sat down on the cold stones just to the side of where she was buried, leaning back against the smooth granite wall, staring blankly out over the brilliant glacial lake and the soaring mountains of Torres del Paine. The Chilean winter was still in full swing, snow whipping all around me, and I started to shiver just after resting the flowers on her grave. It didn't matter. I pulled my jacket tighter around my body, and said what I needed to say.

"Happy Birthday," I whispered, an attempt at a smile mangling my ice-bitten face, "Isn't this one the big four-oh? Damn, woman, you're old."

My comment was met by silence. That was where she would have laughed, but there was only wind howling through the small valley as darker clouds blocked the light from the sky. It hurt so much not to have her laugh at my stupid jokes. "Miss you," I stated, turned and absentmindedly tracing the words on her headstone. The letters were carved deeply into the granite, and my fingertips glided over and over again through

_here lies the body of  
Sidra Eve Kione  
failed wife, flawed mother, fierce guardian angel._

"I miss you so much, Mom," I repeated, closing my eyes, and conjuring her image in my mind. I never wanted to forget how she was when she was alive, and I was suddenly so scared of doing so that I _needed_ to see that I hadn't.

My mom was really beautiful, and I was always a little jealous that I didn't get her looks. She was tall, and curvy, and had flawless, dark skin, the product of quarter-Indian, quarter-African, half-English heritage. Her eyes were big, and deep blue, with thick eyelashes that made them pop becomingly. She had freckles from the sun all along the bridge of her sharp, perfectly proportioned nose, and her smile was gorgeous.

She's always smiling in my head.

"I know I wasn't doing very well for awhile," I admitted, completely unsure whether or not she could actually hear me, if she somehow knew all of what I'd done, but willing to let myself believe that she could and did long enough for me to get out what I wanted to say. Every breath I took hung in front my face in a great gray cloud, and then faded away into the advancing white of the snow storm. I knew I should've left, that it wasn't safe or sane to be out in weather like that, but I just... couldn't go.

"But I'm much better now," I continued, the bitter cold burning all the way down into my lungs, making my chest ache terribly, heaving with every next breath, "I never imagined I'd be able to go on without you, but I know it's what you would've wanted, so I'm trying my best."

The bright orange daisies I'd laid on her grave had already disappeared in a blanket of white, and I could barely feel my fingers. I was starting to get very tired all of a sudden. "I'm living with Remus now," I reported softly, barely able to hear myself over the wind as it picked up even more violently, my eyes drifting shut, the snowflakes clinging to my lashes as I laughed deliriously, "Would you ever had predicted that? It's still kind of weird to say. He's really sweet though, and... I like it there. I made a friend, you know? Charlie. He's wonderful, and you would've really loved him..."

What was I doing? I let myself feel so guilty that I'd put myself in danger. My mind felt slow with cold, but I recognized that I was quickly becoming hypothermic.

"I love you, Mom," I chattered, clumsily scrambling for the portkey, "I'll be back, but it's too cold right now..." And with that, I was swept away.

xxXxx

I landed on the street in front of Grimmauld, and immediately let myself fall onto the curb, where I sat shivering and thawing in silence for a good ten minutes. I was numb. The snow clinging to my clothing had barely even begun to melt in the early morning chill when I suddenly heard a door thrown open.

"I'll run through the town once," It was Charlie, shouting and sounding on the verge of panic, "You keep looking in the house. If neither of us has found her in a half hour, we'll start branching out."

I knew he was talking about me, and wanted to tell him I was fine, but was still shaking too badly to even get sound to come out of my mouth.

He noticed me rather quickly though, taking a few silent steps, and then suddenly breaking into a loud run as he yelled, "Leila! There you are! What are you doing out here! It's not safe!" I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him arrive and kneel at my side. He seemed so relieved and concerned at the same time, and I really didn't know how to explain myself to him.

But his arm fell around my shoulders, and he immediately frowned, looking me over as he reported, "You're fucking freezing! And covered in... _snow?_... Why are you covered in snow?"

"I... um..." Stuttering dumbly was still the best my iced-over mind could do. Really, I have no idea why the cold affected me so badly. Usually I was fine with it. I guess maybe all those months of poor health had had more of an impact than I thought.

And my confusion scared Charlie, his face becoming hard and serious as he easily picked me up from the ground. He was _so_ warm, and he felt _so_ good that I almost wasn't paying attention anymore when he announced that he was going to take me inside, and that I could talk to him when I was feeling better, and would I please leave a note next time I felt like going out because he was very worried about me.

Lost in my own thoughts and the exquisite heat of his chest, I merely nodded as I curled my body closer to his.

xxXxx

An hour, and five force feedings of scalding hot chicken soup later, I was feeling much more myself. Had Charlie not been silently glaring at me from across the room, everything would've been great.

"What?" I demanded crossly, beginning to get annoyed at him for being such a grouch. He'd barely said two words to me since he brought me inside, wrapped me in more blankets than I knew the house had, and thrown himself down into an uncomfortable-looking armchair.

His glare turned into a full-on glower, and he snapped, "You really scared me! Why'd you just leave like that?"

I dropped my gaze, pulling the blankets tighter as I mumbled, "I had to take care of something."

"And it couldn't have waited a few hours until I was awake and could go with you to keep you from getting hurt?"

"No, it couldn't have," I answered, my temper flaring up at the insinuation that I needed to be protected, "I am capable of taking care of myself you know!"

"Sure you are," He grumbled sarcastically, "That's why you ended up half-dead in the gutter."

What the hell was his problem! It's not like I tried to runaway, or kill myself again! "First of all," I snapped, "I wasn't _in the gutter._ I was sitting on the curb. Second of all, I wasn't _half-dead_. I didn't expect there to be fucking blizzard going on, and I wasn't dressed warm enough. Third, I'm _not_ as utterly helpless as you think I am!"

His eyes were narrowing, his jaw tightening as his hands shook, but I just kept talking, "I survived for two years all on my own. I've scaled mountains, and trekked deserts, and killed Death Eaters, and if I want to go somewhere, I can damn well go without a fucking escort!"

"So I guess you don't need me anymore then, do you?" The redhead accused bitterly, looking mad, but also slightly hurt. He was confusing to the point of being irritating.

"To babysit me?" I snarled defiantly, getting up from the couch, marching across the room, and standing directly in front of where he was still seated in the uncomfortable-looking chair, "No, I don't! I'm _not_ a child!"

Once again, his eyes narrowed, and he stared at me hard, making himself suddenly seem very predatory. He licked his dry lips before giving a low, husky growl of, "I am _well_ aware of that..."

It wasn't fair! I wanted to be mad at him for being so grumpy and overprotective, but how was I supposed to when his angry voice was so goddamn sexy! AAARG!

"Good," I responded breathily, cursing myself for the blush my impure thoughts were causing, "Then start acting like it!"

My statement was a blatant challenge. I don't think either of us really understood how the conversation had taken the turn it did, but suddenly it was there. We were there.

I wanted so badly to just lean down and kiss him, and the expression on his face was so intense that I didn't think his desire could've been far off.

He was shaking with the effort of not doing what I was thinking as his fingernails dug into the arms of the straightbacked chair. Why was he still holding back? I'd done everything short of making a pair of my panties into an "I want Charlie" flag and flying them from a twenty-foot pole. The brief moment suddenly seemed to have changed everything between us, and, if I was wrong about the way he felt, ruined everything.

I was unsure and embarrassed, letting my gaze fall as I took a step backwards, ready to go hide under a rock for awhile. However, before I could get far, Charlie was up out of his seat, showing a surprising, slightly frightening amount of speed and strength as he pulled me forcefully against his body. We were pressed together, both breathing heavily, our eyes locked. There was that dangerous blue again, the deep, clear water I could easily let myself drown in...

But then nothing fucking happened! Charlie's fixated eyes were suddenly covered by heavy lids, as he stared longingly at my mouth, and murmured softly, "I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean to yell at you, or make you think that I think you can't take care of yourself."

That whole "This is it! This is it!" build up got shot to hell, and I was too disappointed to even make a move of my own. Words left my mouth, "Ok, and I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone where I was going. Won't happen again," but they were automatic, and completely without feeling.

"Thanks," He responded, letting me go, stepping nervously away, still unable to meet my eyes, "I'll just, uh, go see if Remus is done with that Pepper-Up for you."

And then I was alone again, and I knew I had blown it. The chance was there, and I was too scared to just take the risk, to go for what I wanted. Charlie had seen me at my worst, but I was still terrified of him rejecting me, of losing him. I didn't think I'd ever get up the courage to tell him that I was utterly, hopelessly in love with him.

Fuck.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

alrighty, hope yal enjoyed it. R and R please. Ill be gone for another few days, but ill be sure to post more when I get back


	8. Part 8: Tattoos

Part 8 - Tattoos

Charlie had long ago stopped regularly sleeping in my bed with me, but it wasn't unusual to find me in his if I'd had a nightmare. There was just something about him that made me calm down, that made me feel safe.

After my mom's birthday, after my failed, rather sad attempt at getting him to make a move on me, I stopped letting myself run to him for comfort. It just didn't seem... proper anymore. I had ulterior motives and wicked intents. Besides, it was too hard to sleep with his big, muscular body curled against mine. Of course, it was also hard to sleep _without_ his big, muscular body curled against mine...

But both of us were denying ourselves each other, so Charlie stayed in his bed, lying awake, if the circles under his eyes were any indication, and I stayed in mine, where similar circles developed from long nights staring at the ceiling, wondering when I would find the guts to just _tell him._

Another month passed, and it was suddenly July 28th, my twentieth birthday. I'd known it was coming for several weeks, and hadn't said a word to anyone. I was hoping they wouldn't find out because I really didn't feel like celebrating, because only a few days after my birthday is the anniversary of when my mom and I were first abducted from the dig site, the beginning of the month-long torture session which eventually killed her.

But, alas, I couldn't be lucky enough to have the day of my birth just pass without ceremony, not in a house full of Weasleys, anyways. Those people jump on any excuse for togetherness, fireworks, and ridiculous amounts of food.

Speaking of people jumping on things... "OOF!"

"LEILA! WAKE UP!" I was pulled from dreamland that afternoon, as I had purposely slept very late into the day in order to avoid people for as long as I could, to the feeling of a small creature using my torso as a trampoline, and I opened my eyes, very reluctantly, to see Roo's cherubic little face hovering over mine. She was grinning and giggling mischieviously, and was joined a few short seconds later by two more mischievious, grinning and giggling individuals. That's never a good sign.

"OY! Come on, kitten!" One twin, I still had no way of telling them apart, ordered brightly. I groaned, picking my head up off my pillow to see that they were both standing at the end of my bed. The other twin winked, adding, "We're throwing a special birthday lunch, and we'll look quite nuts if we don't have a birthday girl to go with it."

"Aw, hell," I swore, seeing my birthday of solitude go down the drain, "Who told?"

"Remus, of course," The twins chimed together as they each grabbed one of my ankles, and then yanked me hard out of my bed. Still half-asleep, and caught quite off-guard, I shrieked loudly, dizzy by the time both Roo and I had each been slung over a twin's shoulder. I was _dreading_ wherever they were carrying us.

"Let's see some enthusiasm!" The twin who was carrying me shouted, ending his order with a sharp smack on my ass. That was totally the last straw.

After a furious flurry of kicks and punches, the twin was on the floor, and I was standing over him, my foot applying firm pressure to his windpipe."Don't touch my ass," I growled, watching him gasp and squirm, "And _don't_ throw me surprise birthday lunches." And with that, I released him, and stomped back to my room.

xxXxx

Not even ten minutes later, I heard a soft tap at the door, and it was followed by a gentle, muffled, "Leila?"

"Go away," I shot back, my face buried in a pillow. I just wanted to lie in bed alone until the day was over. I wasn't that lucky.

"Leila," It was Charlie, slowly opening the door, and stepping into the room. I felt the bed sag, and his fingers thread softly through my hair as he stated, "George says he's sorry. Will you please come down?"

"There was a damn good reason I didn't mention my birthday," I growled, ignoring his request, not bothering to pick my head up out of the pillow that was muffling my reply, "You all should have stayed the hell out of it."

"Sorry," He stated after a brief, tense pause, "I guess I'll just go down and tell that room full of people who worked and planned to do something nice for you that you want them to bugger off."

Guilt washed over me. "Damnit," I cursed, finally bothering to roll onto my back, glaring up at Charlie's crooked smirk, "You know, that kind of manipulative bullshit _really_ shouldn't work on me!"

Grabbing my hand, yanking me to my feet, the man chuckled and commented, "And yet, it does. Come on, Mum made sandwiches."

xxXxx

Despite my initial reluctance to participate in the birthday festitivies, they really weren't that bad. The inhabitants of Grimmauld didn't make a huge deal out of it, like I feared. I got very yummy, yet completely typical turkey sandwiches, with a small cake and a few presents afterwards. There was nothing in the world I wanted, and yet those people thought of exactly the right things to give me. I got a hand-knitted jumper with an "L" on it from Mrs. Weasley, baby pink heels from Tonks, a painfully adorable crayon drawing from Roo, which depicted her and me riding a unicorn, a large crate of mostly-illegal explosives from the twins, baby pink nail polish from Ginny, a small flask full of firewhiskey from Sirius, which Remus immediately confiscated, but Sirius slipped back into my pocket with a wink ten minutes later, a new set of throwing knives from Bill, Moody, and the Trio, a pink beaded choker from Remus, and, most surprisingly of all, a few CD's from Draco.

Remus also lifted the wards _and_ returned my wand. I could go outside the grounds whenever I wanted because he said he trusted me. It felt nice to hear. On top of all that there was candy, and hugs, and singing, and I started to feel very horrible about not wanting to participate. I mean, Charlie was right, they had put a lot of effort into doing something nice for me. Being surrounded by people who not only care if you live, but also strive to fill your life with love and happiness is not something that should be dismissed lightly.

It was late in the evening, but the summer sky outside was still bright, the setting sun flooding through the windows. Lunch had lasted a very long time, many hours of food, and fun, and family, and everyone had finally moved into the black and white living room, the one with the tv, in order to be more comfortable. We were spread out on sofas and armchairs, laughing, and talking, and not doing anything specific, but greatly enjoying ourselves anyways. Charlie had his arm around my shoulders, and I was leaning against his side. We were happy, and I suddenly decided to use the birthday wish I hadn't been able to think of earlier. I wished that everything in my life would stay nice, just like it was at that moment. I didn't want anything extraordinary. I just wanted to not suffer, or watch others suffer ever again.

Unnoticed, Draco and Mr. Weasley had slipped away at some point, and suddenly entered from one of the darkened hallways. Between them, they were carrying a large, very beat up stereo system. Everyone got quiet, watching the odd pair as they placed the clumsy black box on the floor beside the tv.

They both turned to us and smiled, seeming very proud of themselves. "Do you like it?" Mr. Weasley asked me, gesturing excitedly, "It's your birthday present! I got it from a prawn shop!"

Draco rolled his eyes, but remained silent, which was rather unusual. Where had the snarky bastard gone?

"I think you mean _pawn_ shop, Mr. W," I corrected, getting to my feet and approaching the extremely thoughtful gift, "And I love it! Thank you so much!" With a big smile on my face, I gave that doty little man a gigantic hug. He was so sweet, and loving, and with him and Mrs. W raising them, it's no wonder all the Weasley kids turned out so great.

"Well, come on," Draco interrupted, sounding impatient, and pushy, and like he was trying to keep me from noticing his part in the touching gift, even if it did happen to be nothing more than carrying it into the room, "Pop in a CD, and let's see if it works."

Smirking, I immediately grabbed the ones he gave me, deciding on _Elvis: 30 #1 Hits_, mainly because it was still so hilarious to me that Draco Malfoy even knew who Elvis Presley was, let alone listened to him. I popped it in, and the sweet sounds of the King filled the room.

The beginning bars of "Heartbreak Hotel" just _beg_ for hip shaking, so it can hardly be helped that mine did so almost entirely of their own volition as I automatically sang along. "_Well, since my baby left me,_" Shake, shake, "_I found a new place to dwell._" I turned to smile at everyone over my shoulder, belting out, "_It's down at the end of Lonely Street, at Heartbreak Hotel._"

The looks on their faces were priceless, and I couldn't keep singing because I started to giggle. "What?" I challenged, grabbing Draco by the hand, spinning him, and then forcing him to dance with me, just because he looked so damn unwilling.

Fairly soon, the rest of the room's inhabitants were no longer staring at me in alarm, and had gotten up to join in my random dance party. Ron and Hermoine were paired off, and he kept clumsily stepping on her feet, although I think she was laughing too hard to mind. Harry and Ginny looked rather cozy, holding each other close and talking low. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were doing some off-beat combination of swing dancing and polka, and seemed utterly oblivious to their complete lack of rhythm, which was endearing in its own very special way.

Sirius was harassing a blue-haired Tonks for a dance, who was harassing Remus for a dance, who was staunchly insisting that he couldn't dance. Moody was also trying to sit it out, but Roo got it into her head that she wanted him for a partner, and pleaded cutely until he grudgingly obliged. Watching the one-eyed, one-legged, mangled old auror sway uncomfortably back and forth while Roo happily twirled circles around him was one of the funniest things I had ever seen in my entire life. It was almost a shame when Bill decided to save Moody from her, scooping his daughter up, and spinning her all throughout the whole room. Moody himself sat down in the corner with the other non-dancers, Remus and Charlie, and sipped something from a flask. It probably wasn't iced tea.

Draco wrestled himself away from me soon after the first song ended, and stomped away, muttering obscenities under his breath, cursing me to hell and beyond even as his cheeks burned bright red against the pale that was the rest of him. Aw, widdle Drakie-poo doesn't like to dance. I stored that tidbit away for future exploitation, hehe.

Almost as soon as he left, the twins popped up on either side of me, and I spent a few songs getting twirled wildly between them. I was just starting to get extremely dizzy when Roo bounced over to rescue me.

"Leila!" She shouted, seizing my hand and tugging hard, "Leila, will you dance the next song with me?" Slowly regaining my balance, I steadied myself, smiled, and stated, "Of course, sweetie. I'd love to."

"Oh, fine then! We can see where we're not wanted," A twin teased, already comforting his mock hysterical brother as they moped away. I might have felt bad had they not dropped the act two feet away from me, bowed to each other, and then began to waltz, bickering heatedly over who got to lead. Laughing, I just shook my head as I turned back to Roo.

"All Shook Up" began to play, and I happen to know all the words. "_Ah, well, bless my soul, what's wrong with me? I'm itchin' like a man on a fuzzy tree,_" I sang, grinning happily as Roo and I both started to shimmy and shake in time with the beat, "_My friends say I'm actin' wild as a bug. I'm in love. I'm all shook up. Mmm, mmm. Oh, oh. Yeah, yeah!_"

Roo laughed, a joyful, squealing giggle as she spun herself around in a way that made adorable green skirt fly up around her legs, and her red-gold hair fan out like a halo. I just loved that I could make her so happy, and continued to sing, "_My hands are shaking, and my knees are weak. I can't seem to stand on my own two feet. Who do you thank when you have such luck? I'm in love. I'm all shook up. Mmm, mmm. Oh, oh. Yeah, yeah!_"

He might've been doing so the entire time, but that's when I noticed Charlie watching me. His face was intense, and unreadable, and the way he was staring made me blush for some reason. I tried not to let it faze me though, smiling and winking before singing, "_Please don't ask what's on my mind. I'm a little mixed up, but I'm feelin' fine. When I'm near that girl that I love best, my heart beats so it scares me to death!_"

He was still staring, and it didn't even seem like he had blinked at all. The room suddenly felt unbearably hot, and I could feel the blush on my face spreading rapidly down my neck and chest. I kept trying not to let him, or my traitorous body get to me, so I looked away, singing the rest of the song, "_She touched my hand, oh what a chill I got. Her lips are like a volcano that's hot. I'm proud to say she's my buttercup. I'm in love. I'm all shook up. Mmm, mmm. Oh, oh. Yeah, yeah! My tongue gets tied when I try to speak. My insides shake like a leaf on a tree. There's only one cure for this body of mine, and that's to have that girl that I love so fine! She touched my hand, oh what a chill I got. Her lips are like a volcano that's hot. I'm proud to say she's my buttercup. I'm in love. I'm all shook up!_"

The song was over, and we lapsed into that slight, awkward pause that always happens as the tracks change. I finally gained the courage to look back at Charlie only to discover that he was no longer sitting where he had been. Frowning, I was just about to walk off and find him when I felt a broad, warm hand slip into mine, and I was spun in a delicate circle. When I stopped, it was only because a muscular chest was in the way. I was pressed up against it, and the hard body it was attached to, and I looked up to find Charlie grinning sweetly down at me. The music finally started, and it was a slow song, "Can't Help Falling in Love." _Oh god..._

"May I have this dance?" The redhead requested, already swaying, guiding my arms up to circle his neck. Slowly, he let his hands glide down the soft skin on the undersides of my arms, gently skating along my cotton covered ribs and waist until they finally came to a halt low on my hips. His touch was so tender, and his grip so strong, and I barely got my voice above a sultry whisper as I responded, "Of course."

_Wise men say  
only fools rush in,  
but I can't help  
falling in love with you.  
Shall I stay?  
Would it be a sin  
if I can't help  
falling in love with you?_

"So," He asked, smirking as he led our bodies in time with the music, "Enjoying your birthday party?" It was very hard for me not to smack him for being such an annoyingly right bastard. "Yes," I responded simply, rolling my eyes when Charlie pinched my sides. I knew what he wanted, and stated sarcastically, "You were right. I was wrong. Thank you for talking me into giving this a chance."

_Like a river flows  
surely to the sea,  
darling, so it goes,  
some things are meant to be.  
Take my hand,  
take my whole life, too,  
for I can't help  
falling in love with you._

"Not a problem," He preened, obviously very proud of himself. "Smug much?" I teased, smirking wickedly as my fingers toyed gently with the neckline of his worn, very sexy, blue t-shirt.

Returning my wicked grin, he rested his forehead against mine and reported, "Well, it's not often you let me be right." He shifted slightly, his lips next to my ear as he whispered, "You're a great dancer, by the way. I would've joined in sooner, but I was having too much fun watching you." Finding myself unable to speak, I let out a breathy, nervous little laugh as he turned to face me again. I became slightly mesmerized by Charlie's eyes. They were so... blue... clear... loving...

_Like a river flows  
surely to the sea,  
darling, so it goes,  
some things are meant to be.  
Take my hand,  
take my whole life, too,  
for I can't help  
falling in love with you._

"Guess what I got you for your birthday?" He sang, subtly pulling my body closer to his. We were pressed so tightly together that I could feel every muscles in his stomach against mine, as well as other parts of him that I was trying not to think about, lest I start to blush. "What?" I countered, beginning to get very overwhelmed by Charlie and the music.

He was rubbing slow, delicate circles on my lower back, and it was hard not to shudder against him. "I'm going to take you out to a nice dinner," He stated, his voice low, and deep, and sensual, "And then I have a surprise for afterwards... is that ok?"

_Take my hand,  
take my whole life, too,  
for I can't help  
falling in love with you._

"M-More than ok," I stuttered dumbly, barely aware of the song ending because neither of us made even the slightest effort to let go of each other. My heart was pounding, and a tight heat was coiling low in my stomach, and all of me was hypersensitive. The whole world seemed surreal, especially when Charlie rubbed his nose against mine, closed his eyes, and leaned in...

"Little brother!" And then suddenly he was just gone, and I was left standing stupidly in the middle of the room, watching as Bill dragged him away. "Come on," Bill ordered gruffly, barely even allowing Charlie's hungry stare to remain on me for a few seconds before he shoved the man out of the room, "I need help with, um, doxies."

I felt like I was going _insane_. Did Charlie like me, or not? I was so sick of getting mixed signals, and constantly obsessing over that man, and never really knowing what he thought of me, and being interrupted every time I thought I was about to find out. It was going to stop.

Before anyone else could pester me for a dance, I slipped out of the room, padding softly along the same hallway I saw Bill and Charlie walk down. It was dark, and rather creepy since the only thing I could hear was low, hissing whispers. I followed them anyways, but didn't find who I was hoping for.

"Remus, I really don't like sneaking around," The voice was quiet, and definitely female, and I could tell it was coming from just around the next darkened corner, "You promised you'd tell her."

I crept up unnoticed, flattening myself against the wall before carefully peering down the next hallway. A dim light at the end of it revealed my dad and some young brunette woman whose face I couldn't see. That's all I managed to take in, sliding back out of sight so that they wouldn't catch me eavesdropping.

I heard Remus sigh heavily, sounding tired and exasperated as he answered, "I know. I know, love. I'm sorry, and I'm trying, but it's just not that easy."

I wasn't quite sure what they were referring to, but their incredibly serious tones made me curious. I should have left, but I didn't.

"She just stopped hating me," Remus went on, making me sure that he was talking about me, "I don't want to give her any excuse to start again... I-I'm afraid of losing her, Dora."

"That's just rubbish," The woman, apparently named Dora, scolded, her voice slightly familiar, but unplaceable, "Leila seems very happy here, and you two are getting along fine." Who was this chick? And how the hell would she know that!

He sighed once more, responding, "I know, but that doesn't mean she's stable. This next month might be... hard. Let me make sure she gets through it alright, and then I promise to tell her."

"What's happening over the next month?" She pressed, sounding slightly unnerved. Again, Remus sighed, informing her, "It's when she and Sid were taken... they were ambushed four days afte Leila's eighteenth birthday, and her mother was tortured over the whole next month... I-I can't even imagine what they went through... it was my fault. I failed them both."

My heart ached for him. I didn't blame him anymore, and didn't think it was right for him to blame himself. He couldn't help that all the good he was doing made bad people angry with him, made them want to hurt him by hurting us.

"Don't say that," Dora demanded softly, "You couldn't have known it was going to happen, and you did all you could. Leila's only alive today because you saved her."

I heard Remus snort, grumbling, "Wouldn't have needed saving if it weren't for me." Without hesitation, she smacked him, hard, ordering, "You stop that right this second! You're a good man, and your daughter loves you... I love you."

I did a slight doubletake upon hearing that declaration, and was so caught up in trying to process it that I didn't notice that the conversation had gone completely silent. Extremely curious once more, I risked another peek down the hallway.

And they were fucking KISSING! There were tongues _down_ throats, and hands _under_ clothing, and I just _barely_ didn't scream _EEEEWWW! OH GOD! MY EYES!_

I couldn't watch for very long. My dad making out with some secret girlfriend, a chick half his age, who looked like she could practically be my sister, was just _disgusting_. Quite dazed, and a little bit nauseas, to be honest, I stumbled back through the dark hallway. I have no idea how I managed to not get lost, especially since I wasn't paying attention at all, but I didn't.

Stepping into the bright living room was like stepping out of a dream. It almost didn't seem real. "Leila, love," Charlie called happily as he suddenly turned up at my side, "There you are. Where'd you get off to?"

I stared dumbly, vaguely yelling at myself to not look so guilty as I drawled, "Um... nowhere... I mean... looking for you."

Regardless of his slight confusion, Charlie smiled, beamed, really, and slung an arm around my shoulders as he stated, "Well, you found me. Am I everything you hoped for?" He winked rakishly, and I felt myself blushing, thoughts of the horrible acts taking place somewhere in the darkened hallways behind me fading away. How could one wink do that to me? Hell, I had it bad.

"All that and more," I teased back, giggling as I hugged him around the waist. He laughed, and we both just enjoyed a few moments of being close like that.

But then he finally, rather reluctantly, pulled away, grinning as he gave me a slight push towards the stairs, and ordered, "Go on then. The girls want to dress you up, and I suppose I should put on something a bit nicer myself."

"Ok," I agreed, once again acting a little foolish, blushing and giggling like a goddamn schoolgirl. Oh ya, I had it _bad..._

xxXxx

Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. W were waiting upstairs in my room, and pounced on me as soon as I stepped through the door. Over the next hour, Ginny painted my finger and toenails with the pink polish she gave me, while Hermione and Mrs. W went to work styling my long, dirty blonde hair into a mass of loose curls. When they finished, they declared it was time for me to get dressed.

Mrs. W was gone long enough for me to wonder what the hell I would be wearing, and returned a few moments later with the answer to my question. "Here you are, dear," She cooed, smiling as she placed a little white garment bag into my hands and then adjusted my hair slightly, "I'm fairly certain it's your size, but I can alter it if it's not."

"Oh, thank you," I said, a little surprised that so much forethought had gone into Charlie and my's outing. It was slightly unnerving, and put a lot more pressure on the evening than I was entirely comfortable with.

"Don't thank me, dear," The old woman responded, giving me a knowing smile, "Thank Charlie. He picked it out." My eyes must've just about fallen out of my head. "Charlie!" I gaped, beyond the point of caring that I sounded like a lunatic, "Charlie _picked out what I'm wearing!_ WHY!"

Ginny started giggling, "Because he wanted to, I guess. Don't worry, it's a lovely dress. Open it up and take a look." And I did. And it was fucking _gorgeous,_ a thin scrap of thigh-length white lace with a pink sashed empire waist and little pink string straps. Charlie certainly had good taste.

"Wow," I gasped, carefully running my fingers along the fine material. Mrs. W chuckled softly, reporting, "I dragged him along with me for groceries, and he saw it in a shop window. I hadn't seen the kind of look that came over his face since he was just a little boy staring a plate of fresh-made cookies, and I just _knew_ what he was thinking. Call it mother's intuition, I suppose, so I told him in to get it. Should've seen his face, so sweet..."

She suddenly got all dreamy, tearing up and staring off into space in a nostaligic, heartfelt way. Ya, she was long gone. I just took the dress, and went to the bathroom to change.

I couldn't wear a bra with it, and it was a bit see-through, but not in a trashy way. It was like the dress was made for me, hugging every curve of my body so perfectly that I have to admit to spending about ten minutes posing in front of the mirror. Lame, I know, but I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been so dressed up and pretty looking, and damned if I wasn't going to enjoy it.

Back in my room, I got fussed, and gushed, and cooed over. Not used to that kind of attention, I was feeling just a tad bit embarrassed, so welcomed the distraction when Mrs. W finally stepped away from me to look at the door and muse, "Where on earth is Nymphadora?"

A forty-watt went off in my head. Nymphadora. Dora. Chick with her tongue down my dad's throat. Bingo. "Who is this Nymphadora person?" I questioned skeptically, still very unsure about what I thought of my dad having a girlfriend.

Hermione laughed, "It's Tonks. You know her. Nymphadora is her first name, but she doesn't like it was much, so almost no one calls her by it."

It sort of made sense, but, "Wait, she's the one with the blue hair?" The woman I saw with my dad was a brunette...

"She's a metamorphamugus," Ginny explained distractedly, flipping through the pages of a _Witch Weekly_ while sucking on a small lollipop, "Changes her hair quite a bit. She had blue earlier, and then she was a brunette after that, oddly enough. Usually goes exclusively for neons."

"Oh..." I muttered, now convinced that it was the same woman, that Dora was Tonks.

A few minutes later, the metamorph in question came barreling into the room, her hair electric orange and her face flushed. I found it extremely difficult to block out thoughts of what they were the side effects of. "Sorry, Molly," She offered with a bright grin, cutting off the older woman's tirade before it could even begin, "Got held up a bit."

Mrs. W pursed her lips tightly, giving the girl a quick up and down, which made me realize the disheveled clothing, before growling, "Yes, I'm sure."

Poor Tonks turned bright red, and I could've sworn I saw Weasley freckles suddenly flash across her cheeks. But they were gone as soon as they'd appeared, and she seemed to regain her composure, smiling at me as she waved a large, lumpy cosmetics bag and said, "I've been enlisted to do your make up, love. Hope you don't mind."

Trying to be nice, since she really hadn't given me a reason not to, I responded, "Not at all. I'm a bit incompetent with the stuff, so having you do it would be great."

"Excellent," She quipped back, taking a seat on my bed and patting the spot next to her, "Hop on up then." I sat down, and we just stared at each other for a few moments, seeming to be sizing each other up.

Tonks looked away first, diving into her bag of makeup, and declaring brightly, "So I'm thinking some nice pinky-brown eyeshadow and dark mascara to bring out those gorgeous eyes of yours. They really are quite pretty."

Suddenly in a teasing mood, realizing that my newfound knowledge could be used for a bit of fun, I smirked and stated, "Thanks. I get them from my dad. He's got the same ones, you know?"

Turning bright red, she looked up at me with a quite startled expression on her face, like she wasn't sure if I was hinting at something, or really just making conversation. After a second or two of deciding, she finally muttered, "Um, ya, his are nice, too."

"So," I mused, trying very hard to sit still while Tonks applied colorful powders and creams to my face, "You're an auror, huh?" It was time for some sneaky investigation. "Ya," She replied, smiling, "For about five years now."

Doing some quick math in my head, I asked, "Then that would make you... twenty-seven?"

"In September, ya," She answered, "Shut your eyes for me, love." I did, not even paying attention while she swept some brush over the lids. I was doing more math in my head, and figured that those figures would make her fourteen years younger than Remus... _weird_.

Did I like the idea of my dad dating a woman who was almost a decade and a half younger than him? Did I like the idea of my dad dating _anyone?_ I didn't have much practice with this kind of situation. My mom was gorgeous and funny and had a lot of guys interested in her, but she only ever had one relationship. I was six, and he was a colleague of hers. I can't remember thinking much of it at the time. He was a tall Swede with green eyes, and brought me candy when he was taking her out on dates, but they broke up after only a month, and that was it.

How was I supposed to act towards Tonks? I mean, I'd just barely gotten used to having a father. There was no way in hell I was going to be ok with the chick if she thought she was gonna swoop in and try to be my new mom. No, sir. Over her dead body.

"All done, love," The metamorph suddenly chimed, breaking me out of my trance. I opened my eyes to see my own face, madeup beautifully. It was stunning. My yellowy-amber eyes were rimmed in dark liner, and looked like they were just about popping out of my head. My lips were a light, juicy shade of pink, and tasted like cotton candy. A mass of blonde curls fell over my bare shoulders, my cheeks had the perfect amount of a lighter pink color, and my whole face was glowing.

"Wow," I muttered, in awe that I was so pretty. I mean, I know I'm not a troll or anything, but it was strange to be looking like some bombshell.

"Glad you like it," What I assumed was my reflection in a mirror stated, crinkling my nose before slowly morphing into Tonk's face. I jumped, and fell on my arse, which made everyone laugh.

"Sorry," Tonks apologized, giving me a hand up off the floor, "Didn't mean to scare you." I returned an embarrassed chuckle, responding, "Aw, no big deal. I'm a little jumpier than usual, is all. I get that way when I'm nervous. Just ask Fred... or George... I can't remember which, but I kung-fu flipped one a few months ago.

Laughing, Tonks replied, "Nice. But don't worry, you're gonna knock him dead, kid."

"Thanks," I muttered, remaining still as Mrs. W fastened the choker Remus gave me around my neck, and proded me to step into the pink heels from Tonks as she instructed tearfully, "You look beautiful, dear. Let's head on down."

With an excited squeal, Ginny jumped up and ran out of the room, presumably to announce my impending arrival. Hermione rolled her eyes and followed soon after. I could tell that she still didn't like me much, but we were on reasonably polite terms. It was alright. I'd been a bitch to her, so I could understand why I wasn't her favorite person.

I left after them, and Mrs. W and Tonks just behind me. The metamorph was trying to comfort the old woman as she sniffled into a handkerchief, muttering something about how her baby was growing up and settling down, and how she couldn't have chosen a nicer girl. I was about three seconds away from throwing up, and couldn't help but wonder if everyone else in that house knew something that I didn't. That's right, my conspiracy senses were tingling. I have those you know. They are my superpower.

And then I was at the top of the stairs, and Charlie was at the bottom, and we both sucked in a hard breath, holding them while we stared at each other in awe and adoration.

Charlie always looks handsome, but I have to admit that he cleans up _real_ nice. The russet stubble that usually adorns his square jaw was gone, and he'd tried to comb his hair, put some kind of product in an attempt to tame the spot in the back that always sticks up at an odd angle. It's the spot he always complains about and self-consciously attempts to flatten with his hand when he thinks no one's watching. It didn't work, but it was so cute that he'd tried.

He had on black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a slightly crooked tie that was the same light, clear blue as his eyes. The shirt fit nicely, clinging to his muscular chest and shoulders and slim waist, but he looked uncomfortable in it, especially with the collar buttoned all the way up. Then a realization suddenly hit: a man who practically lived in ratty t-shirts and worn, shredded jeans dressed up just for me. I felt dizzy.

Hoots and catcalls from the twins finally broke both of us out of the trances we'd fallen into, and Charlie looked away from me to scowl at the both of them. He was so adorable, and I could almost imagine him growling, _"Mine,"_ in that stubborn, possessive way he had in his sleep months ago. I'd been sort of obsessing over that growl...

"Damn, kitten," A twin, I never know which is which, gasped jokingly, "I don't think I've seen anything so hot in all my life."

Beside him, the identical redhead smirked roguishly as he agreed, "Either of our lives. What do you say to ditching dragon boy for a little double trouble tonight, eh, sexy?"

"Since it's your birthday," the other embellished, ignoring Charlie's red-faced, murderous glare as he winked up at me, "We'll be sure to make it worth your while."

Walking down the stairs, I gave Fred and George a very stern look, which I think they took to be seductive since it didn't bother them at all. "I'll pass, children," I stated, walking right to Charlie and slipping my hand into his larger one, "I have better things to do than babysit on my birthday."

"Ouch," They both groaned, holding perfectly matched hands to their hearts. "I think we were just shot down again, Gred," The one on the right muttered. The other nodded, musing thoughtfully, "That we were, Forge. Our girl must have a thing for tattoos..."

"Lucky me," Charlie gloated, not even bothering to look over at his rambunctious little brothers because his gaze was locked with mine. I smiled, and he smiled, and the nervous/excited fluttering in my gut was making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

"You look..." He finally began, seeming to be struggling for the right words, licking his thick, chapped lips. I smiled up at him, and it made him finally breathe, "_Beautiful._"

I could feel myself blushing, but grinned anyways, giving his broad, rough hand a light squeeze as I countered, "You're lookin' pretty good yourself, stud.

A big, smug, stupid smile came across his face, and I knew I was utterly, hopelessly in love.

"Ready?" He asked, tugging me closer and steering us towards the front door. A little overwhelmed from suddenly realizing the depths of my infatuation, I gave a mesmerized nod, and inquired, "Where are we going?"

In the entryway of Grimmauld Place, the empty frame from Mrs. Black's portrait still hung silently on the wall. The room was crowded. Remus was glaring sternly, definitely trying not to smile, Bill frowning darkly, Roo giggling hysterically, the twins staring lustfuly, Mrs. W sniffling brightly, but Charlie ignored each one as we passed them on our way out. He was watching me, his eyes sliding over every curve and contour of my face. I could feel it almost like a feather-light touch, brush of lips or fingertips, and a slow shiver ran down my spine.

"It's a surprise," He finally whispered, smiling lazily as we stepped outside and he led me down the darkened walkway. Once we made it to the curb, he stopped us, turned to fully face me, and took my other hand as well. "Trust me," He said, the lazy, crooked grin still in its rightful place across his rugged face.

I could feel myself smiling, too, and just before he apparated us away, I whispered, "Always."

xxXxx

"I still can't believe you did this," Our meal was almost over, and I was still in awe.

From across the table, Charlie grinned at me, looking proud, on the brink of smug as he answered, "I wanted to. Aren't you enjoying yourself?"

What a stupid question. I was in Genoa, Italy, on a candlelit terrace that overlooked the ocean, I'd just eaten one of the best meals of my life, and Charlie was still staring adoringly across at me. I wasn't just enjoying myself, I was in heaven.

"The company, mostly," I teased, smirking wickedly as I let my leg "accidentally" brush against his under our small table for the dozenth or so time that night. He just barely bit back a groan, fixing me with a hard, predatory stare. I met it unflinchingly, taunting, "Oops. Sorry, Charlie."

"S'ok," He answered, his voice low and gravely, his chest heaving slightly from the effort of keeping himself under control. Teasing him like that was a bit cruel on my part, but I wanted him to make a move and figured flirting until he went crazy was a good way to facilitate it.

"_Scuzi, Signora_," (Excuse me, miss) Our waitor, whose name was Giani, interrupted, prompting Charlie and me to break our stares, both still intense and breathless. The tall Italian man grinned knowingly, asking, "_Come la sua cena era?_" (How was your dinner?)

"_Eccellente_," I answered with a bright smile, "_La pasta che lei ha raccomandata era deliziosa_." (Excellent. The pasta you recommended was delicious.)

"_Lei e benvenuto_," He went on, smiling between Charlie and me, "_E li nient'altro posso prenderla? Il dessert, forse? Abbiamo il tiramisu, il gelato, ed un mondo una mousse di cioccolata famosa_." (You're welcome. Is there anything else I can get you? Dessert, perhaps? We have tiramisu, gelato, and a world famous chocolate mousse.)

I turned across to Charlie and asked, "Did you get that?" He looked both confused and impressed, as he had on all occasions when I conversed so easily with Giani. Apparently, Charlie spoke a little Italian, so he could usually pick up most of what we were saying, and answered, "Ya. Um, _il tiramisu... per favore_." (Tiramisu... please.)

"_Ah, il signore buono scelto_," The waiter exclaimed, jotting down a note on his pad before turning back to me, "_E per la signora?_" (Ah, good choice, sir. And for the lady?)

I smiled, stating, "_La mousse di cioccolata sembra piacevole. Cio avro, per favore._" (The chocolate mousse sounds nice. I'll have that, please.)

"_Andro prende quelli per lei immediatamente_," (I'll get those for you right away) Giani stated, giving one more charming, toothy smile before walking inside the restaurant. I turned back to Charlie, and found him staring at me, dumbfounded.

"What?" I giggled, lightly brushing against his leg again. He shook his head, answering, "Nothing. I just still can't get over how well you speak Italian. I was all set to impress you by being able to order our dinners, but I'm a stuttering idiot compared to you."

Shrugging, I laughed, "Don't worry, I find your stuttering idiotness quite cute, and I'm still impressed with you for taking me to Italy. Thanks again, Charlie. This, everything you did is a really wonderful birthday present."

"My pleasure," He responded brightly, shifting in his seat. Even though he never complained, the redhead had been squirming uncomfortably in his too-tight tie and over-starched dress shirt all night. It'd been the same all evening, and, while I found it oddly endearing, I felt guilty that he was suffering on my account.

"C'mere," I ordered with a laugh, finally prepared to put an end to his distress as I leaned across the table. He saw me coming, and his eyes grew dark and hooded. He licked his lips, and swallowed thickly.

I couldn't tell if he was disappointed or not when I just reached out to loosen his tie because I found myself unable to look up. I'd made a severe tactical error by getting that close to him. I hadn't thought the action through... He smelled _so good..._

"Honestly, Charlie," I stated, unable to keep my voice even or my hands from shaking as I undid the top buttons of his shirt, "You call _me_ a fidget." When it was done, I smoothed the soft white materials across his chest and shoulders. He was _so warm..._

I glanced up at him through my eyelashes, our lips barely a few inches away as I asked breathlessly, "Better?" Slowly, he nodded, and I knew I should lean back, but I couldn't move at all. I looked in his eyes, and gave myself over to the drowning blue as he drifted towards me.

A huge crash from inside made us both jump back in fright. Startled, and a little annoyed, I looked for the source of the noise that had inconveniently spoiled the moment, and found that a waiter had dropped a tray. I looked back to Charlie, pouting a little, and saw that he was smirking at me, trying to hold back his laughter.

He didn't last long, and let out a huge, infectious guffaw. I joined in, small giggles at first that quickly turned loud. I don't think either of us had any idea why it was so funny, but laughing felt good, and we didn't stop until well into dessert. I think Giani began to seriously doubt our sanity.

xxXxx

After dinner, Charlie looked at his watch and said we were still early for my real surprise, and had some time to kill. It was a nice night, warm and lit by the nearly-full moon, so I suggested we take a walk near the water. We held hands. Charlie loosened his tie further, and undid a few more buttons on his shirt. Relaxed and dishevlled was a good look for him, especially with his short, ginger hair standing on end from his repeated attempts to flatten it.

My shoes were off, seeing as how it's impossible to walk on the beach in heels. Lights from the boardwalk above us bounced and rippled off the white-blue foam from the breaking Mediterranean waters, and made the sand glitter like broken crystal.

"So you weren't kidding when you said you've been everywhere," He laughed, giving my hand a squeeze as he lightly bumped his shoulder against mine. Because he'd asked, I'd just finished relating the long list of languages I spoke fluently, or close to fluently, and secretly hoped that Charlie was impressed.

"Nope," I answered brightly, bumping and squeezing right back, "My mom was a cursebreaker, and she never went anywhere without me. I grew up bouncing between continents, so I sort of had to learn."

The light was making his freckles darker, making them seem to pop from his pale skin as he stopped and turned to face me. His blue eyes sparkled. "I'll bet you loved it, too," He teased, leaning down to rest his forehead against mine, "Kept that sharp mind of yours occupied."

There was nowhere to look but his eyes, and I gave him a soft smile, responding, "I liked it more for the fact that I can feel at home anywhere in the world. I know the lands, the peoples, the languages... I almost forgot how much I love them all..."

We lapsed into silence, Charlie pulling away after a few moments to look at me curiously. And then he asked flatly, almost hurt, "Do you miss it? Traveling around all the time?" I sighed, and stated, "Of course."

I saw his face fall, growing slightly horrified before I continued honestly, "But I'm happy where I am. I like being a part of a family again. That's what I really wanted more than anything, what I needed."

For a long time, he just seemed to be thinking hard on my words. Then a slow, lopsided smile spread over his face, and he reached out to tug on one of my loose curls as he answered, "We certainly like having you." Our grins probably could've cast that night into day.

"So," I finally stated, bouncing excitedly right on the spot, "Is it time for my surprise yet?" Charlie smirked at my antics, then gave his watch a glance and reported, "Not _quite_ yet." He held the timepiece out for my inspection as he explained, "See, the place won't be open until the little hand is completely at the six."

The little hand was a fraction of a millimeter off, thirty seconds at the most.

"_Charlie!_" I whined impatiently, giving him a smack on the arm at the first sign of his teasing smile. "What?" He asked innocently, feigning hurt as he rubbed the "injury" I'd given him, "It's not my fault, love. You know I'd do anything for you, but speeding up time is a bit out of my grasp."

I shot a totally-don't-buy-it, you're-just-being-an-arse look, and questioned, "Can't we be a little early?"

He grinned mischievously, quipping, "Don't want to seem overeager."

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, I hummed thoughtfully, peering sweetly up at him, "Mhmm. And is there _nothing_ I can do to change your mind?"

It was meant to be a joke, but he got so serious that I knew he hadn't taken it that way. And maybe I didn't want him to afterall...

Charlie licked his lips, thick, chapped lips my gaze wouldn't stop darting to. "Well," He muttered, nervous, but stubbornly resolved as he took a step closer to me and flashed a charming grin, "I might be persuaded to alter the plans slightly in exchange for a kiss from the birthday girl."

_Clear blue water, warm from the high sun, floods into my lungs, and I'm finally lost to the sea._

"That all?" I whispered, slowly wrapping his tie around my hand, using it to tug him down to me. His strong arms circled my waist in an instant, pulling me against him, and I spared one last glance into his deep eyes before I closed my own and touched my lips to his.

_Bliss._

We shivered against each other, some combination of joy, pleasure, and relief washing over us, and I let my free hand come up to hold the back of his neck as both of his arms tightened around me. Our mouths stayed softly melded together for a few long moments, and then began to work in tandem, lips cautiously parting and tongues gently licking as the moans from deep in both our chests gradually blocked out the sounds from the waves, and the boardwalk, and world. Soft heat seemed to rise from the sand, remnants of the summer day coiling up my legs and torso until it was high enough to turn my pounding heart into a smoldering fire.

As much as I was willing to drown and burn in Charlie, an ache in my lungs eventually brought me up for air. Panting, I kept my eyes closed and let my head fall onto his chest. It was heaving, and he was shaking as his heart beat against his ribcage like a frantic hammer. He rested his chin on the top of my head, and hugged me close, his body surrounding mine with a protective strength I was already hooked on.

I was smiling, and I could just picture the huge, satisfied grin on Charlie's face as he murmured, "We're late now, wicked girl. See what your impatientness has done?"

With a snort, I gave him a light smack on the chest, and it rumbled against me as he laughed and swayed us slowly back and forth. I felt him smile as he kissed my temple, nuzzling his closely-shaved jaw against my cheekbone and whispering hotly, "Ready?" I nodded, and he apparated us with a deafening pop.

xxXxx

It was very bright where we landed, and hot, too. I was reluctant to move from Charlie's embrace, but curious enough about our location to do so.

We were nowhere. In the middle of fucking nowhere. A flat plane of dull, dry grasses extended straight out for miles in front of my eyes. The sun was high above the horizon, and beating down with an intensity that was just the wrong side of bearable.

"Where are we?" I asked in confusion, peering up and down the dusty dirt road as I stepped away from my redheaded companion's firm chest. From behind, I heard him chuckle, then felt a hand on the top of my head and got gently turned around.

"Oh," I muttered, blushing with embarrassment as I came face to face with a small, wooden building that was artfully graffitied all over with eye-popping neons. It was such a stark contrast from the drab environment that it seemed like it had just been dropped out of the sky from some alternate dimension.

I glanced to Charlie, seeing him smirk as he put his arm around my shoulders and steered me towards the structure. "We are in the States," He reported brightly, "In Northern Kansas, and that shop right there is called _Deerangement._"

"Interesting," I countered, taking in the gorgeous murals all over the walls, "And why are we in the States, in Northern Kansas, outside a shop called _Deerangement_?"

He stopped us just before we reached the door, and dug a carefully folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "Because," He stated, holding it out to me, "I've got a promise to keep."

The second I took the paper into my hands I recognized what it was, and realized why we were there. It was a drawing that had been stuck in the pages of my mom's journal, a dark-haired, robed angel holding a red star over her head. It was my mom's drawing, and it was beautiful. It was my tattoo.

"Charlie," I gasped, looking up at him with tears in my eyes, unbelievably overwhelmed. Months ago, just after my suicide attempt, he'd promised to take me for it when I got better, if I would promise him never to hurt myself again. We hadn't talked about it since, and I never told him that I planned to get that drawing when it fell out between us. I'd merely picked it up and put it away without a word. It was strange and touching that he'd known anyways.

"Only if you're ready, love," He assured quietly, holding onto me tighter and planting another soft kiss on my temple, "But I think you are."

I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say. What he'd done meant so much more to me then I could ever express, and there was no way I could ever thank him. Finally, I settled for a softly whispered, "I'm ready." Charlie smiled, and opened the door, and we walked inside.

"BIG RED! YOU'RE BACK!" As soon as we stepped into the well-lit studio, we were assaulted by a very tall, very loud woman. It took me a moment to figure out where she came from because she just seemed to pop out of nowhere, but then I realized that she'd leapt off the balcony above us, dropping directly into our path.

Charlie gave the woman a charming smile, greeting, "You know I can't stay away, Deedee." She threw her head back with laughter, her tall, black and neon green mohawk nearly touching the small of her back. She had lots of tattoos running up both her arms and shoulders, which were bared by the pink and white stripped tube top she was wearing. She had lots of piercings as well, as many as six in each ear, two in her right eyebrow, one in her left, and a stud in her bottom lip.

She had a great smile though, and dark green eyes, one of which was a little bruised. "I'M NOT GIVING YOU ANYMORE INK!" She screamed, making me jump slightly, "YOU'VE GOT A PROBLEM, NOW TURN AND WALK OUT THAT DOOR BEFORE I TELL YOUR MOTHER ON YOU!"

"BLOW OUT YOUR HEARING AGAIN!" Charlie shouted mockingly, prompting laughter from some of the other tattoo artists in the building.

With a smirk, Deedee answered, "YA! CONCERT LAST NIGHT! I WAS RIGHT UP AGAINST THE SPEAKER, AND CAUGHT AN ELBOW IN THE MOSHPIT!" Chuckling, Charlie replied, "I CAN SEE THAT!"

"WHO'S YOUR FRIEND!" She screamed next, turning to smile warmly at me. Offering my hand, I introduced, "Leila. Nice to meet you."

The woman shook my hand as she shot me another bright grin, and hollered, "LIKEWISE! I'M DEEDEE! WHAT'S A NICE GIRL LIKE YOU DOING HANGING AROUND WITH A SCRUFFY BASTARD LIKE HIM!" The name _Deerangement_ was starting to make a lot of sense. Laughing, I winked at Charlie and responded, "Thoroughly enjoying myself."

Charlie turned red, and Deedee threw her head back with another loud chuckle, "I'LL BET! MY OLD PAL IS QUITE THE CHARMER!"

"Alright, I'll just stop you right there, before you start telling embarrassing stories about me," Charlie cut in, giving her a stern look, "Leila here wants a tattoo, so I figured I'd take her to the best in the whole world to get it."

The woman grinned like a cheshire cat, stating, "AW, YOU FLATTER ME, CHARLISLE." She then turned to me, and asked, "WHAT HAVE YOU GOT IN MIND, DOLLFACE?"

"_Charlisle?_" I asked, giving the man beside me a teasing smirk as I handed Deedee the drawing. He began to blush slightly, and explained, "She's under the impression that it's my name." It was cute, so I couldn't help but chuckle.

"THIS IS NICE!" Deedee shouted, smiling brightly as she ushered us further into the two storied studio, "DID YOU DRAW IT YOURSELF!"

"No," I explained softly, having to speak louder when I noticed her leaning in closer, "No, My mom did." She nodded, and gestured me to sit on a funky, oddly shaped purple sofa. "RIGHT ON! I JUST NEED TO MAKE A TRANSFER!" She said, waving a blonde boy over, "THIS IS JASON! HE'LL DISINFECT YOUR SKIN!"

"Hi," He muttered shyly, "Where do you want it?" I smiled, watching Charlie and Deedee talking out of the corner of my eye, "My left wrist, please." The boy nodded, and then got right to work.

A few minutes later, Charlie sat down beside me, grabbing my free hand in his and smiling sweetly as he asked, "Ok?"

Grinning excitedly, I responded, "Ya, fine. So, this is where you got your tattoos?"

"Yup," He answered, relaxing back against the couch, and resting his head on mine, "Deedee owns the place, and she's an old friend from Hogwarts. I don't really trust anyone else when it comes to this stuff. She's the absolute best." That was all that needed to be said. I was in good hands, and Charlie was there. I had no fear.

Deedee came back, still half deaf and screaming small talk as she transferred the design onto my wrist. She noticed the faint scar there, but didn't say anything, and put the angel right over the top of it. I gave my approval of the size and positioning, and then she set to work.

I won't lie, it hurt. I expected it to, but gritted my teeth, and tried to just concentrate on watching the ink illuminate my skin. It was a surprisingly spiritual experience. Catharsis by color.

Charlie held my hand through the entire thing, reminding me of his presence and support even as the both of us chatted with Deedee while she worked. She could barely hear us over the buzz from her needles, so was yelling rather loudly. Eventually all the other artists in the studio were screaming at her to shut up, but she couldn't hear them either. It was strangely entertaining.

An hour later, it was all done. I had tears in my eyes again that were threatening to spill over even more than they had when I'd first realized where we were. Sensing that they had nothing to do with physical pain, Deedee left Charlie and me alone, closing a curtain around us to give some privacy.

"Still ok?" The redhead questioned, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I couldn't stop looking at the tattoo. It was so beautiful. My guardian angel. My _fierce guardian angel._

A choked little sob left my throat, a bittersweet smile on my face as I turned and kissed Charlie hard, pressing myself close and feeling completely at home when his arms wrapped around me. A whole new stage of my life had begun.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

well, thx for reading. Review please, and I may start posting some of my other stories on this account, seeing as how you guys have been so great

also, please excuse my crappy Italian. I don't speak the language, and only used a translator. Sorry if everything was completely wrong, heh.


	9. Part 9: Pieces of Me

Part 9 - Pieces of Me

It was official: Charlie Weasley is _the_ best pillow in the entire world. He's always warm, like some kind of furnace is built right into him, and his wonderful muscles provide just the right balance between softness and firmness. Plus, there is the added bonus of not being able to use him as a pillow without finding his arms wrapped snugly around you. Yup, I was definitely hooked

After our excursions to Italy and Kansas, my birthday dinner and tattoo, Charlie and I got back to Grimmauld Place rather early the next morning. It was still dark out, and, though deliriously happy, we were both exhausted. Finally coming to the realization that we were crazy about each other took a lot out of us. Heh.

So we both kind of just flopped down on the biggest, squashiest couch in the black and white living room, Charlie throwing himself down first and catching me as I fell on top of him. Content to feel his arms around me, I snuggled into his chest and asked lightly, "What do you think Remus will say about the tattoo?"

His eyes were already falling shut, but he was playing with a lock of my hair and chuckling as he answered, "Oh, I imagine he'll want to kill me for marking up your pretty body."

Hearing such remarks from him was still new, and I blushed rather hotly. It was nice though, knowing he thought I was pretty. "Aw, don't worry, Char," I teased, yawning as I drifted off on top of my new favorite pillow, "I'll protect you from my big, scary were-daddy. I can't have him doing anything to mark up _your_ pretty body."

I heard him laugh, the sound warm, humming through my entire frame. "Good to hear, love," He commented breathlessly. I don't remember anything else, so that's where we both probably fell asleep.

xxXxx

"_Leila_," I woke up to a small voice hissing close to my ear. Struggling to stay in Dreamland, I groaned and cuddled up closer to Charlie. His arms tightened around me, and his slow breathing gave way to a deep sigh. Even with my eyes closed I was enjoying his cuteness, and tried to hold onto thoughts of it as I fell back into blissful unconsciousness.

"_Leila_," But there it was, the voice again, insistent as ever, warm and damp against my ear. I gave another groan, muttering, "Go 'way. Sleeping."

"_Leila_," It said once more, whinier this time as its owner tugged on one of my arms, "Wake up! I gotta tell you something!"

"Later," I murmured softly, feeling far too drained for human interaction. I just wanted sleep. Sleeeeeep. Was that so much to ask for?

"But I have to tell you now!" The voice whined again, tugging harder, actually sounding quite urgent and frightened. Starting to grow a little worried, I cracked open one eye.

Roo was standing beside the couch. She was wearing a pink cotton nightgown, and clutching tightly to what it took me a few moments to figure out was the small corn husk doll I'd made for her months ago. I was really quite touched that she'd kept it, and that she still hadn't drawn on a face.

But that was the extent of the happy thoughts because the little girl was quite distraught, breathing in terrified little pants as tears streaked down her already wet cheeks. Her long mane of red-gold hair was all in disarray, and it only contributed further to her appearance of distress. Her little body was shaking visibly.

My mind snapped right into awake mode, concerned about whatever it was the sweet toddler was upset over. I immediately tried to get up and comfort her, but, completely forgetting about the death grip Charlie had on my body, I lost my balance and accidentally rolled us both right off the couch. This time, I ended up on the bottom, hitting the floor hard before the brawny redhead dropped right on top of me. I can't say that it didn't hurt, but it was nothing extraordinary.

"What'zit?" Charlie grunted tiredly, apparently disoriented at suddenly finding himself on the ground. I squirmed, trying to get up as I reported, "Sorry, I knocked us off."

He peered down at me, then smiled sleepily and announced, "S'ok, love. I don't mind. There are plenty of worse places I could think of to wake up than on top of you." My face turned pink of its own free will as I laughed and swatted him on the shoulder, ordering, "Censor yourself, Charlisle. There are young ears present. And get off, please."

"Stupid Deedee," He muttered grumpily as he slowly complied, "I'm never gonna live down that name." Rolling my eyes, I quipped, "If you want, I could think of some new ones, but I can't guarantee you'll like them any better." Charlie appeared to look thoughtful over my threat, and I turned to tend to Roo.

She was still sniffling, and her pale blue eyes were wide with near hysterics. As soon as I held my arms out, she came barreling into them, hiding her face against my neck as I cradled her tightly.

And then she started babbling, "I had a dream where me and you were playing with unicorns, but then the unicorns all turned into confetti, and everything was really green. You picked me up and you ran and ran and ran and then you put me down and drew funny shapes on the ground and on my head and told me to close my eyes but I couldn't and I saw you were fighting big scary monsters! The monsters all had big black mouths and they laughed a lot, even though it made you sad and mad and they were hurting you but you told me to keep my eyes closed again and then I couldn't see anymore but I heard you yelling and then I woke up and I couldn't find you!"

Wow. There was a lot more going on in that young mind of hers than I suspected. Holy Nightmare on Elm Street, that was sort of disturbing. "Shhh," I cooed softly, rocking her as she sobbed and wrapped her little arms in a stranglehold around my neck, "It's ok. It was just a dream. Nothing can hurt us here. I won't let it."

I looked up from the girl to find Charlie still sitting on the floor, watching our exchange with an expression of concern etched all over his handsome features. Our eyes met, and he mouthed, 'food and movie,' which I took to be the prescribed course of action for treating his young niece's bad dreams. He pushed himself up and set off in search of those items, leaving me to continue calming poor little Roo.

"Shhh, sweetie," I hummed, petting her hair, "Don't worry, it was only a dream." Hiccuping as she finally relaxed, the girl whimpered, "But it gave me a bad feeling in my tummy."

I let my head rest on top of hers as I stated, "The bad feeling probably just means you're scared, and that's ok. Everybody gets scared."

"Everybody?" She sniffed, turning to look up at me with those big, innocent eyes of hers, "Even my daddy?"

"Yup," I reported, leaving her to ponder slightly before asking, "And Uncle Charlie, too?" Nodding, I said, "Him, too." She kept looking thoughtful, and then continued on, "And even you?"

"_Especially_ me," I countered gently, "I'm scared all the time, but you know the best way to feel better when you're scared?" She shook her head, leaving me to smile and answer, "Just what you did. Find someone to give you a hug and tell you everything's ok... so, is it working, hun?"

She paused for a moment, seeming to be thinking hard, and then a weak smile came across her face. "Ya," She stated proudly, "It is! My tummy feels better now!" And then she was hugging me tightly, sighing into my hair, "Thanks, Leila." Aw, warm fuzzies, for serious. I think I have something in my eye...

When Charlie came back, Roo was fast asleep in my lap, and I was watching her carefully for any signs of another nightmare. With a low chuckle, he set the _Little Mermaid_ DVD and a halved, crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwich down on an end table. He then snagged a triangle and lowered himself down beside me as he declared, "Wow, I can't believe you got her to sleep so fast. She'd usually be up for another hour at least." I shrugged, shifting so that I could rest my head on his shoulder as I yawned, "She just needed to be calmed down from that crazy dream of hers."

Charlie put his arm around me, shifting to kiss the top of my head as he agreed with a soft hum. After a few more moments of munching on his sandwich in silence, he declared, "I think it's also because she really likes you a lot."

That made me feel like a million bucks. What a nice thing to say. "Well," I countered quietly, a big grin spreading my face as my eyes fell shut, "I like her a lot, too. She's a sweetie, and, besides, we werewolf spawn have got to stick together."

Beside me, my burly redhead let out a huge laugh, pulling me closer as we both fell back into sleep.

xxXxx

Nobody take this the wrong way, but Bill Weasley is sort of scary looking. I imagine he used to be quite handsome. I mean, I know he was. I've seen pictures, but, since being mauled, his face has taken on a ruggedness that borders on the grotesque.

As long as he's reasonable calm, he just looks like a scarred guy. If he happens to be upset, however, if he chooses to glare in that way that he has, the man can be downright terrifying.

So imagine my surprise when my eyes opened to the ghastly, monstrous glare of that pissed off redhead. I just barely didn't scream, jumping nearly a foot off the ground and yelping in an embarrassing, rather cowardly fashion. And then I kicked him square in that frightening face of his... oops.

"OW! SON OF A-" One of his hands few right to his bloody nose, but, before he could finish the swear, his daughter shot awake in my arms and screamed a disoriented command of, "NO! Granny will wash your mouth out!" I was kind of impressed by her always-on-the-ready anti-swear dedication.

Bill listened, too, glaring silently at me as his nose continued to bleed profusely and his pale blue eyes to water uncontrollably. Charlie slept through the whole thing, peanut butter and jelly smeared all around his mouth.

Finally, after just giving me his Look of Death for awhile, Bill simply scooped up his groggy little daughter, cradling her in one arm as blood dripped off the other, and stomped away. I remained frozen for about another three seconds before I chased after him to apologize.

"Bill!" I hissed quietly, mindful of the houseful of sleeping people, as well as the dozing toddler in the man I was chasing's arms, "Bill! Wait! I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

He grunted and muttered something under his breath. I couldn't hear exactly what it was over the thick, bubbling gurgles his blood-choked throat was making as he continued to breathe, but, whatever it was, it earned him a sleepy smack in the head from his daughter. I imagine it was not a kind remark.

Jogging to keep up with his much longer strides, I offered softly, "I'm really sorry, ok? I didn't mean to kick you. Will you please stop and let me take a look at it?"

"No," He snapped shortly, his voice a low, nasal pitch, "I can take care of myself. Go away."

"Come on," I argued stubbornly, following along as he made his way into Roo's room and deposited her gently on her small pink bed. "You can't see well enough to tell whether or not it's broken," I said, "Let me have a look."

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, LEILA, LEAVE ME ALONE!" He screamed loudly in reply, rounding away from his daughter like he was seriously going to punch me. He had his fists clenched tightly as was literally _snarling_. It was like suddenly finding myself locked in a cage with a wild animal. I was startled back a few feet, and started preparing to have to defend myself against the insane man.

But then Roo's small voice came out of the covers, and the sound of it immediately calmed him down. "Daddy!" She squeaked, shocked and outraged, "Daddy, that was mean! I'm gonna tell on you!"

The look that came over Bill's face was so loving it was heartbreaking, and he was dropped to a knee at her bedside in under two seconds flat, grasping her little hands in his huge, non-bloody one as he cooed sweetly, "Aw, I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean it. I'm just cranky, is all, and you will be, too, if you don't get a few hours of sleep before breakfast. Ok? Will you do that for me?"

She seemed to be carefully considering the proposal even as her eyes were dropping shut anyways. "But," The little girl argued, allowing herself to be pushed gently down and tucked under her covers, "But I had a scary nightmare!"

"Well, I think I know how to fix that," Bill announced flashing a crooked grin, "You just have to stop taking sweets from Uncle Fred and Uncle George right before bedtime. What do we know about them, angel?"

With a big yawn, Roo recited, "If I let them, Uncle Fred and Uncle George will rot my teeth and my mind... that's not what happened, but ok. Good night, Daddy, I love you." And with that odd little statement, she was out cold.

Bill still happened to be gushing nose blood everywhere, but carefully managed a clean kiss on the girl's forehead as he whispered, "I love you, too. He then turned to stand.

He seemed to have honestly forgotten I was even in the room, and started a little when he saw me. The surprise quickly turned to anger once more, and then he stalked past me without a word.

"Bill!" I growled, slightly pissed now that his comments and obvious dislike of me had sunken in, "What is your problem? Aside from the _totally accidental_ nose thing, what the hell could I have possible down to have gotten you so mad at me?"

He didn't bother with a coherent answer, just more grumbling and swearing as he stomped into the bathroom and punched the light switch. His fist left a shallow dent in the wall, and I knew that him acting out aggression on inanimate objects was a Very Bad Sign.

"Just _go away_," He finally snapped, holding a towel to his face, trying to stare me down over the top of it, "Go back to _Charlie_." And then the reason for his outrge was suddenly as clear as day: he did not want me involved with his brother.

He seemed to realize that he'd just given it away, and his glare grew even more dark, like it was my fault he couldn't keep his big mouth shut.

"Are you serious?" I demanded, at a complete loss for what problem he could possibly have with me being with his brother, "_That's_ what all your bitchiness is about?" Again, he said nothing, so I took that as my cue to continue speaking. "What don't you approve of _exactly?_" I demanded, refusing to let the large, gruff man scare me, "Come on! You don't just get to decide you don't want us together and not give a reason. It had better be a damn good one, too!"

"Because you're both going to end up hurt!" He finally screamed, probably loud enough to wake the whole house if most of the rooms hadn't had silencing charms on them. "Charlie doesn't know what he's getting himself into!" He continued, growing redfaced as he worked himself up into a frenzy, "You're too needy! And fragile! And emotionally codependent! You're nowhere near well enough to even _think_ about becoming romantically involved with him! The whole relationship can't just be about him taking care of you! If you can't take care of yourself, then you're not ready! It won't work, and you'll break each others' hearts!"

The small bathroom fell into a tense silence, the last of Bill's tirade echoing off the blue ceramic tile as I felt his words sinking in. I was mad at him for the accusations, but, at the same time, knew that he made some legitimate points. Relationships are supposed to go both ways, and I knew a lot of mine and Charlie's had been him taking care of me. I was grateful to him for that, and knew that I was in love with him, but was I a partner in it? Had it all been just his effort that had finally gotten us to where we were? And would we last if I didn't contribute more? If I didn't get stronger and more independent? Was I really mentally well enough to embark into something as stressful as a real relationship? Doubt began itching insistently in my mind.

"Besides," Bill went on, calming a little but not enough to make him look any less scary, "You're a lot younger than he is. Too young to know what you really want. Don't let him love you, or yourself love him if you're just going to decide in a few years that you want something a life with him can't give you. What's the longest you've even stayed in one place, Leila? Six months? Less? What's stopping you from getting bored next week and just taking off without a fucking word? What if it happens a few years from now, when Charlie can't live without you anymore? I won't let you do that to him!"

"I wouldn't," I stated firmly, feeling sick just from hearing all the things that could potentially go wrong with my budding relationship, especially because all of them would be my fault.

Bill took a deep breath, lowering the towel from his face now that the bleeding from his nose was down to a mere trickle. He ran his clean hand through the long, loose strands of crimson hanging off his head.

"You're a good kid," He said flatly, really making me feel as young as he claimed I was, "I know you wouldn't hurt him on purpose, but things change, people change, and, no offense, but you're really not stable enough to be letting anyone depend on you for anything. And I'm not just talking about Charlie, either. Roo likes you. A lot. It would really crush her if you went away, or decided to kill yourself again-"

I cut him off at that point, snapping defensively, "I'm better now. I wouldn't do that, and I'm not going anywhere."

He was very serious as he stated, "Well, sorry, but I don't believe you. It's not good enough to just say you will or won't do something." As his glare darkened, he added, "People lie, to themselves more than anyone else."

He was right. I had to earn it. I had to prove it to him. To myself. I wanted to prove it. "How can I prove it?" I demanded blankly, quite willing to jump through any hoop that was asked of me, anything that would earn Bill's trust and ease the doubt eating away at me.

He looked at me like he was trying to figure out my true intentions, then said, "Tonight, Charlie's going to get a letter from the reserve saying that they need him back in Romania. Tell him he should go. Without you."

"Why?" I asked, a little confused and fearful about such a prospect, "What would that prove?"

"He'll be gone for a long time," Bill answered plainly, already washing his bruised and bloodied face in the sink, "It'll prove that you've not going to fall apart without him to hold you together... and even if you can do that, it won't be the end of this. I would just be a start."

Sending Charlie away sounded stupid, but, at the same time, I had to know for sure that the things Bill was accusing me of weren't really true, that I wouldn't just fall apart without his brother around.

"Ok," I agreed softly, deep in thought as I backed out of the room. Bill gave no acknowledgement of the tears in my eyes

xxXxx

I wandered downstairs in a bit of a daze, far too much information running through my head to even begin making sense of. I didn't notice Charlie sneak up on me until his arms slowly snaked their way around my waist. He hugged me against his hard chest, resting his chin on my shoulder as he grinned and accused, "Abandoning me already?"

"What?" I squeaked, a little panicked, thinking that he must have overhead my promise to let him leave. I could feel him frown against my neck as his arms tightened.

"Just kidding, love," He breathed, warm air tickling my loose blonde hair, "Because I woke up and you weren't there... is everything ok? You seem kind of jumpy."

"Ya, fine," I announced, relaxing into his very comforting embrace, "Just... I was seeing if Remus was up, since we usually go to breakfast in the mornings."

"If the both of you feel up to it," Remus' disembodied voice remarked a second before the rest of him entered the kitchen, "Charlie is welcome to join us."

The smile found its way back onto the redhead's face, and he stated genially, "Morning, Remus. I'd be honored to tag along with you two, if Leila doesn't mind, of course." He gave me another squeeze, and I giggled lightly, swatting his arm as I scolded, "You know very well that I don't mind, but the rule is that you have to order super-chocolate pancakes and drink chocolate syrup with us."

"Hmmm," He hummed thoughtfully, then suddenly spun and dipped me. He held me a foot from the floor, grinnging into my startled, slightly murderous face, and continued, "Well, my mum won't like me having all that sugar for breakfast, but anything for you, love."

And then he kissed me, a firm peck on lips that instantly took my breath away. If the way he was panting when he pulled away was any indication, it did the same thing for him. God he felt so _right_. All the doubts I was having, as well as my resolve to actually test them, just melted when I was close to Charlie. I knew that would be a problem.

The sound of Remus loudly clearing his throat spooked us both out of the prolonged staring neither of us had realized we were doing. Turning a little pink, Charlie set me back on my feet and slung an arm around my shoulders as he offered Remus a sheepish grin.

"It seems as though we'll have plenty to talk about," My father remarked, smirking slightly as his yellowy-amber eyes shone with amusement. Charlie and I just smiled.

xxXxx

I learned two things at breakfast that morning.

1. Remus was a lot cooler than anyone gave him credit for. He not only _didn't_ have a problem with my tattoo, saying that it was a nice piece of art and recognizing it immediately as one of the few projects my mom used her apparently immense talent on, but he also peeled back the shoulder of his threadbare sweater and showed me some ink of his own.

The words _I solemnly swear I am up to no good_ were written there on his right shoulderblade in beautiful, black script letters on a curling white ribbon banner. Underneath was a small coat of arms that depicted a pair of antlers, a chewed up bone, a full moon, and a piece of cheese. The whole thing was set tangled in the branches of a whomping willow tree. It was quite cute, and, I found out, another drawing of my mom's. She'd made it to poke fun at Remus' little gang of "Marauders," but they liked it so much that they all went out and got matching tattoos. Freakin, awwwww...

2. Charlie does not handle large amounts of sugar well. He ate super-chocolate pancakes and drank syrup with us, all the while being his sweet, charming self. At one point, he even bravely informed my father that we were dating, assuring Remus of how much he cared for and respected me. _Sigh_. Anyways, it wasn't until we were walking home that he started getting extremely hyper.

"TAG! YOU'RE IT!" He shouted giddily, randomly smacking Remus on the arm and then taking off, laughing and flailing all over the place. Remus, seeming to understand that Charlie's behavior was _mostly_ due to a sugar overdose, simply chuckled, tapped me on the arm, and instructed, "Why don't you go play with your little friend, dear. Make sure he doesn't get himself into too much trouble."

I laughed, blushing and now apparently It as I responded, "Sure thing. See you back at the house." I then took off after Charlie, glad to have changed out of my dress and into a white tank top and denim shorts.

A block later I caught up to him, and whacked him sharply on the bum before laughing, "TAG! YOU'RE IT!" He gasped, clenching his backside in both hands and looking absolutely shocked, staring at me like I was as insane as he was. I just giggled, and ran off. He didn't take long in running after me.

He didn't catch up to me until we reached the front lawn of Grimmauld. I thought I was in the clear, and quickly glanced over my shoulder, planning on using my victory to mock Charlie a bit. When I looked, however, all I saw was a red, freckled blur flying right at me, and then I was tackled roughly into the grass.

Triumphant, Charlie straddled my hips, pinning my wrists down above my head as he cackled, "HAHA! NOW _YOU_ ARE THE ONE WHO IS IT!"

"_Charlie_," I whined, trying hard to sound irritated as I squirmed beneath him, "Get off me!"

His broad face split into a devious smirk, and he transferred both my wrists to just one of his large, calloused hands as he answered, "Nope. I think I like you just where you are." Slowly, he inched his free hand underneath my shirt and dragged his fingers very lightly across my side, smiling when I gasped and twitched under his touch.

"Yup, I'm _certain_ I like you just where you are," He assured me, grinning impishly before suddenly turning the light caress into a tickling scramble of fingertips. Since I happen to be just about one of the most ticklish people on the planet, I couldn't help shrieking loudly as I laughed, and kicked, and struggled fruitlessly. I could barely catch my breath.

However, Charlie seemed to be greatly enjoying himself, smiling wildly as I pleaded, "CHA- AHHAHA! CHARLIE! ST- OH GOD, STOP! CHARLIE, HAHAHA! ST-STOP!"

"Why?" He questioned innocently, darting in to kiss my forehead as he continued his merciless assault, "I've been dreaming about hearing you scream my name for _months._"

Had I not been putting all my effort into not pissing myself, I probably would've blushed, or smacked him upside the head for that pervy comment, or at the very least come up with an equally pervy comeback.

"CHARLIE!" I finally shrieked, desperate by that point for relief, "CHARLIE! STOP IT OR I'LL NEVER KISS YOU AGAIN!"

The tickling instantly ceased. After blinking the tears of laughter out of my eyes and finally taking a few deep breaths, I looked up to find that Charlie had a bratty, disturbingly cute pout on his face. "You don't play fair, love," He sulked, not seeming like he was planning on getting off me any time soon. Chuckling as I squirmed beneath his superior weight, I replied breathlessly, "I know."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes, me catching my breath, and Charlie staring intently down at me. After awhile, I couldn't help smirking as I demanded, "What are you looking at, stud?"

He grinned, hovering over me as he responded, "My beautiful girlfriend." Laughing and rolling my eyes, I countered, "You're crazy."

"Crazy about you!" The burly redhead announced, seeming very proud of himself. Chuckling, I teased, "That was _lame._ You couldn't think of anything better than that?"

I gave a startled yelp as he lightly pinched my side, still managing to hold me down as he leant in closer and whispered, "No, not really. I've always been more a man of action than words."

Closing my eyes, I laughed, "Oh yeah? And just what does that mMMMFF..." My response was cut off by a pair of lips crashing into mine. They were Charlie's, of course, thick, and slightly chapped, and too fucking perfect. I found myself quickly melting against them, the fact that I was making out with my redhead on the front lawn of Grimmauld not even registering.

And, oh what a good make out session it was. Charlie's hyperactivity made him extremely... uh... _eager_. His free hand never stopped roaming as he worked himself into a frenzy exploring my mouth _quite_ thoroughly with his chocolate-coated tongue. Not that I wasn't enjoying myself (greatly), but I did have one small complaint. "Let go of my hands," I panted, moaning softly as I arched my back, pressing my chest against his in search of some friction.

"No," He growled, his voice low and husky as he went to work kissing and sucking my throat. "Mine," He added gruffly, punctuating the statement with a sharp nip of teeth against the straining cords of my neck. When his tongue came in to soothe the sting, my brain just _exploded_. I lost my ability to think coherently.

That is, up until I gradually came to realize that Charlie still hadn't let go of my wrists. In fact, he had them pinned rather tightly to the grass. I didn't like that so much. At first it was just annoyance at the loss of control, as well as not being able to touch, but it very quickly became a rather severe feeling of discomfort and... fear.

Still only just annoyed, I tried to wriggle my wrists out of his grip, but he held on tighter, and a bolt of pain shot all the way through my left arm. It was my tattoo, fresh and therefore slightly raw.

My brain went haywire again, only this time in a bad way. I suddenly felt threatened and scared, like I was back in that shack in Zurich. I was tied up and helpless, and I was going to open my eyes and find my mom being beaten, and raped, and tortured in front of me. It was _not_ a pleasant sensation.

I tried to yell at him to let me go, but his mouth was covering mine, gently sucking on my bottom lip. I was freaking out just a little, and started to buck and thrash beneath him. The action didn't manage to free me from his superior weight, but it did finally get his attention.

He sat up a little, still obviously hyper and turned on, but also concerned. Tilting his head like a confused puppy, he sat still, waiting for me to say something to explain why I looked like I was about to cry.

"Let go of my arms, please," I whispered, closing my eyes as I tried to calm myself down, "I don't like it."

"Oh," He responded, instantly releasing me, "Sorry, love. I didn't realize." Breathing a sigh of relief, I stated, "That's ok. No harm done." I opened my eyes again, sending a warm smile up at Charlie.

He took that as the all clear, grinning and then going back to his previous task of making me gasp and moan. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, doing this _fantastic_ thing with his tongue right on my collarbone... mmm...

And now that my hands were free, I could really enjoy myself, relaxing into the warm, sweet-smelling grass as I grasped at Charlie's strong biceps... I do love his biceps... and ran my fingers through his hair... he really seemed to like it when I tugged on it lightly... His hands were on my hips and ass, his grip firm as he pulled my body tighter into his.

He gently rolled us onto our sides, and captured my mouth again, leaving me to drag my nails lightly down his ribs and rub my thigh right against his denim-covered crotch... he definitely liked that, gasping several curse words under his breath before attacking me with renewed ardor.

But, of course, that's when a window somewhere above us slammed open. I didn't think too much of it at the time, _far_ past caring who saw us making out on the front lawn. Seriously, one of his hands was somewhere up my shirt, and the other was doing this _heavenly_ thing on the small of my back, not to mention that his tongue was-

SPLASH! Something hit me hard on the side, and then exploded, covering me with water. Startled, I looked up just in time to see a bright purple water balloon hurtling through the sky. I gave a rather loud sqeak of surprise, and pulled Charlie over to shield me from getting hit again. Courageous, I know.

SPLASH! "HEY!" The balloon nailed him right in the back of the head, instantly soaking his short copper hair, darkening it to a nice shade of russet. Water ran down his tanned forehead, dripping off his nose and his pouting lips as he scowled at me. I giggled, and then licked a drop of water off his full bottom lip. I'm fairly sure I was forgiven instantly for using him as a human shield.

"OY!" Tonks' unmistakable voice shouted mockingly, "We were trying to discourage your public displays of lewdity!"

"NUDITY?" I heard the twins gasp in unison, sounding like they were shoving each other to get better views out the window, "WHERE?"

"Not nudity, half-wits," Hermione groaned peevishly, over the sounds of snickers from Harry, Ginny, and Draco, "_Lewdity!_ And, wait, lewdity isn't even a word!"

It was my turn to groan then, resting my head against Charlie's chest as it shook with laughter from the antics of the assorted inhabitants of Grimmauld Place. Next was Roo, I could hear her jumping up and down to see out the window as she cooed, "Aw! Leila and Uncle Charlie were kissing! Are they gonna get married now?"

I snorted, and heard Ron joke, "In all likelihood, yes, and they will have many, many angry, dragon-loving offspring to terrorize the world for generations to come."

"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea..." Charlie mused thoughtfully, causing me to instantly bring my head up in alarm. He grinned at me, winking and firmly pressing his hips against mine as he suggested, "We should get started right away."

Before I could smack him, he had me rolling through the grass, shaking more water out of his hair and onto me as his hands once again began roaming freely all over my body. There was nothing I could do but laugh into his mouth and take exactly the same liberty.

xxXxx

A little while later, when I realized just how bad an idea it was to have worn a white tank top on a day when people were going to be pelting me with water balloons, I managed to persuade Charlie to stop groping me for long enough to go inside and change. Of course, in order to convince him, I had to trade the hyperactive redhead the exclusive rights to grope me all he wanted as soon as I was finished. Such a sacrifice...

Dried off and now wearing a tight blue spaghetti-strap shirt, I was humming happily as I made my way downstairs to find Charlie and cash in on, I mean submit to my end of our bargain... heh. Right at the bottom of the staircase, just as I was passing the empty frame where Mrs. Black's portrait used to be, Roo came bouncing up to me with a big, sneaky grin on her cute little face. Something was up.

"Leila! Leila!" The girl cried, skipping until she stood in front of me, and then jumping up and down as she offered me a small piece of parchment, "I'm 'posta give this to you!"

"Um... Ok..." I stated, cautiously taking the scrap. As soon as I did, the girl bolted, giggling as she ran. Confused, I unfolded the parchment to find Charlie's messy script. He had written:

_Leila,  
Playing in the backyard. Bring more chocolate.  
Love,  
Charlie  
(not Charlisle)_

"Oh lord..." I muttered, unable to stop smiling as I jogged through the kitchen, grabbing the requested chocolate bars from the hidden junk food stash before stepping out into the hot summer day.

Almost immediately, I could hear Charlie laughing, loud and near hysterical. It didn't take very long for me to find that he had both twins pinned face down into the grass, each with an arm twisted behind his back. They were making pitiful whining noises as they fought, but it was no use. Charlie was slightly shorter, but, it seemed, stronger than both combined. It would be wrong of me to admit to finding that a huge turn on, right?... right...

"OY! LEILA!" One of the unfortunate twins yelped as he attempted to squirm out from under the knee Charlie had pressed firmly into his spine. The other one, in pretty much the same position, pleaded, "HELP! GET HIM OFF!"

"MWAHAHA!" Charlie cackled evilly, his blue eyes growing several degrees more wild and insane before he announced, "I'm teaching them a lesson! What have we learned today about water balloons, lads?"

"Um..." A twin groaned painfully as he scrambled at a few handfuls of grass, "Don't throw them at Charlie?"

"And?" Charlie demanded, looking like he was greatly enjoying himself, even winking and grinning at me as I snickered a few feet away. The other twin squeaked, "And... um... especially not when he's making out with Leila?"

"Good boys," Their older brother stated mockingly, giving each twin A condescending pat on the head as he finally released them. They both sprinted away like frightened rabbits, leaving me and Charlie to ourselves. I began to admire the genius in his twisted little plan.

And then he got up from the ground and came right for me, closing me in his arms and kissing me soundly with no further delay. My body was flush against his as my arms came up to circle his neck. He picked me right up off the ground, spinning me as his hands firmly kneaded my ass. I could feel him grinning.

"Well, hello to you, too," I laughed breathlessly when I finally got my mouth free. Charlie smirked rakishly, resting his forehead against mine as he still refused to let me go. "Did you bring me chocolate?" He inquired sweetly, kissing the tip of my nose.

I threw my head back laughing, and he used the opportunity to trail his kisses down my neck. "I did," I informed him quietly, "But after that little display, I'm not sure it's such a good idea for me to give them to you."

Pouting, he finally set me down on the ground, keeping his arms around me as he asked, "Why's that?" Laughing, I grabbed his hand in mine, resting my head against his shoulder and steering us slowly away from the house. I thought a nice walk might calm him down. "Because," I informed him kindly, "You were sitting on your little brothers."

"So?" He argued, flashing me a charming smile and giving my hand a light squeeze. I rolled my eyes.

We walked in around the surprisingly large backyard for the entire day, both of us very comfortably enjoying the warmth and sunshine, conversing lightly and sometimes heatedly. Charlie has a smart, sharp mind, and he had always been a pleasure to talk to, but now, with his perverted side off its leash, he was downright wicked. Not that I wasn't exactly the same...

We wandered very far back into the property, neither of us realizing just how far until after we had to make the long trek back in the dark. The yard was like a jungle. At one time, it had probably been very picturesque and neatly groomed, but years of neglect had allowed the hundreds of species of magical plants to take over and strangle the expensive stone walkways, arches, statues, and benches. I think I preferred it like that.

We ate the chocolate I'd brought out for our lunch and dinner, so Charlie remained fairly hyper entire day, which was entertaining in and of itself.

I'd been pointing out some of the rare and interesting plant species I recognized as we walked, blushing every time Charlie told me how smart I was, but as the sun was just dipping below the horizon, one finally caught his eye. He dropped my hand, darting straight for a bush I hadn't even noticed. In fact, now that I did, it really didn't look all that extraordinary. It was just a dry, twiggy thing, kind of like a huge, tangled-up tumbleweed suspended off the ground by a thick, scaly, root.

"What is it?" I asked, wrinkling my nose slightly as I stepped up behind Charlie. He sat down in the dirt beside the plant, and, after inspecting the shrub for another few moments, he grinned at me over his shoulder and offered, "Wanna see something cool?"

I laughed, "Sure, why not?" He motioned me over, whipping out his wand. I took a knee at his side, waiting patiently for this _something cool_ I'd been promised. Charlie sent me one more grin and wink, and then muttered a torch spell, causing fire to come out of the end of his wand. He used it to light the dry bush.

My mouth _dropped_. I knew he was still a little nuts from the sugar, but never in a million years did I suspect sweet, lovable Charlie of being a firebug. It was slightly disturbing.

But then instead of becoming a raging inferno that would burn down everything in the yard and then the house, like I feared was going to happen, the fire instantly flared up into a deep, deep, almost unnatural red color, and the bush began to bloom beneath it. My mouth was still hanging open, but now it was in awe as I watched the dry, previously bare twigs erupt with shining black thorns and prickly, dark green leaves. Instead of being consumed, the bush was coming to life.

After a few long minutes, the red, red fire began to die down slightly, and that's when the red, red flowers began growing out of the now lush plant. They were just little specks of color at first, sprouting up like shining beads of sweat from out of the thick leaves, but, as the fire died down further and then finally went out, they grew into large rosebuds.

Thinking that was it, I muttered, "Wow." This caused Charlie to chuckle under his breath, and the man reached over to grab me around the waist. "Just wait, love," He murmured quietly, tugging me into his lap and then pressing his lips right up against my ear as his strong arms closed around my body, "This is the best part."

And it was. All the buds opened at once, their petals literally _bursting_ outwards and giving off a shower of crackling, deep red embers that looked absolutely brilliant against the darkening sky. The embers covered the ground around the plant, and the plant itself, clinging to the hide-like leaves and velvet-looking, deep red petals. It just glowed like that, like a little firestorm on pause.

"Wow," I reiterated, unable to think of any other suitable reaction as I continued to stare. I couldn't take my eyes off the plant, the flowers, especially, and I was amazed to realize that I could actually feel heat coming off of it. A light breeze suddenly caught some of the embers, spreading them out and suspending them in the air all around us, turning the setting almost surreal.

"Uh huh," Charlie muttered in response, mouthing his kisses and words against my bare shoulder. He gently worked the strap of my shirt down and added, "It's called Dragon Rose. Grows wild in Romania, but only where a dragon's blood's been spilled, and it only blooms after coming into contact with fire."

"It's beautiful," I whispered, my eyes falling shut as a slow shiver ran down my spine. I could feel Charlie smile against my rapidly heating skin as he hummed, "Mmmhmm."

I looked over my shoulder, instantly catching his eye. I smiled, and he smiled, and he began bringing his kisses higher, trailing them from my shoulder blade to my neck with an almost _excruciating_ slowness. The man had me panting with anticipation, and he was barely touching me. Just his lips had me feeling like I was going to burst into flames.

When he finally reached my mouth, my eyes fell shut again and nothing else mattered. I was warm, and safe, and happy, and I was in the arms of a man I... loved.

He tasted like chocolate, the thick, heavy flavor coating his tongue and lips. My arms came up, reaching back over my head so I could lace my fingers through Charlie's soft red hair and pull him closer.

It was just one kiss, but it was... intense... needy, and fierce, and overwhelming. By the time we came up for air, we were both flushed and breathless. A leisurely smile came over Charlie's face, and I could feel one on my own as he reached up to gently brush a stray lock of blonde hair behind my ear.

"You're beautiful," He announced reverently, bending down to capture my mouth once more. I could feel my temperature rising, the burn growing more and more exquisite with each degree higher.

"We should probably start heading back," I suggested a little while later. The garden was all darkness and shadows now, and I was sure that we were probably being missed back at the house. Charlie agreed, humming low in his throat, but not making any move to get up. In fact, he started lazily kissing and sucking my neck... that was distracting...

"Charlie," I laughmoaned, losing more and more of my resolve by the second as I unconsciously leaned back into the treatment, "Really... it's getting dark... they'll come looking for us..."

"Let them," He murmured swiftly, "Let them come and see so they all know you're mine." Grinning broadly against my skin, he continued to distract me. I continued to let myself be distracted for quite awhile...

A soft hoot eventually got both our attentions, and we looked up from our current positions, which happened to be me turned around straddling Charlie's lap while hurriedly ripping his shirt off, to find a little barn owl slowly circling down from the sky. Under his breath, I heard Charlie growl a string of nasty curses at the "ruddy bird" before immediately going back to feeling up my bare legs and pressing my body as close as possible to his.

Detached, moaning wantonly as Charlie leisurely teased my shirt up over my head, I watched the bird fly lower and land on a branch right above us. In the light of the nearly full moon, I could just barely read the name written on the letter in its beak. It was Charlie's name. It was Charlie's letter. It was the letter from the dragon reserve. It was the letter that would take Charlie away.

I closed my eyes, trying not to cry, trying to remember that I had to do this. My voice shook as I whispered, "It's for you, Charlie."

He had his face buried between my breasts, and he was breathing hotly against my skin, seeming to be trying to slow himself down and gain some control as he groaned, "I'll get it later..." After placing brief, reverent kisses on the dusky points of each of my nipples, he smiled and added, "And if you're thinking of that bird and not me, I'm really not as good at this as I thought I was."

My nervous laughter made my breasts shake in a way that was obviously very distracting for Charlie. He was so busy staring at them that I think he barely heard when I insisted, "It's probably important."

He made no response, so I had to take some drastic measures. I crossed my arms over my chest. The poor boy whined like he was a puppy and I'd just taken away his favorite toy... which I suppose was the case.

"Charlie," I stated sternly, finally getting him to look me in the eye, "Answer your letter." He pouted, turning to wave the owl down as he grumbled, "Fine... bossy wench..."

Grumpily, he grabbed the letter from the bird, but, before he would open it, tugged my arms away from my chest and put them around his neck. Then he was free to grab me around the waist with one arm and hug me close against him, using my boobs as pillows while he hurriedly ripped open his letter.

As he read it, I stared off into the dark, running my fingers through his hair and tracing the heavy freckles on his back and trying to stay calm. It became harder and harder to do as I felt the frown on his face get deeper and deeper while he read further into the letter.

"They want me back in Romania," He announced, sounding remorseful, "I have to leave tonight."

"Oh," I responded, unable to fake surprise. We sat in silence, Charlie's arms getting tighter around me with every second, forcing our hot, sweaty chests against each other and seeming absolutely unwilling to go.

"I don't suppose you'd come with me?" He inquired, not sounding at all hopeful about my answer. Still running my fingers through his hair, I made him shudder as I answered, "No... I can't... I'm sorry..." I wanted to give him more of an explanation, but I didn't know how to put it into words. How was I supposed to tell him that I loved him, that I was broken when he'd found me, shattered into a million shards? That he was the only one who saw into my heart and patiently picked up the pieces of me, holding them together and just being there while I had to force myself to heal? That now he had to let go, so that I could make sure I was whole again, whole enough to deserve to be loved in return?

"It's alright," He soothed, stroking my bare back with both his large, rough hands, "I'd love to bring you, but you're probably safer here." Before I could even start worrying about what that mean, about what kind of danger Charlie was leaving to face, he pulled away from me.

"We can't do this now," He declared, desperately trying not to look at my half naked body as he clumsily groped in the dirt for my shirt, "I want you. So bad it hurts. But I'm not just going to give you a quick fuck before I have to leave."

After finally finding my shirt and shoving it into my hands, he continued, "There'll be plenty of times for that later. Our first time, I'm going to have you moaning, and whimpering, and begging, screaming my name over and over. I'm going to drive you crazy all night long, and then wake up in the morning with you still in my arms, gorgeous, and sated, and too sore and exhausted to move..." I felt him shudder against me, and then he picked me up out of his lap and set me on my feet. Suddenly embarrassed about being out in the open like that, as well as being flushed from the mental picture he'd just painted, I turned my back on him to pull my shirt on.

Before I could turn to face him, Charlie came up behind me and slid his arms around my shoulders. "Would you like that, baby?" He whispered hotly in my ear, grinding his obvious erection, the one I'd been previously grinding against, into the curve where my spine becomes my ass, "Can you wait? Can you promise to be here when I get back so I can get to work acting out every single fantasy I've ever had about you?"

"Only if you promise you're coming back," I answered breathlessly, blinking back tears even as the lust I was feeling made my body tense enough to snap at any moment, "Only if you promise we can act out my fantasies, too."

His laugh was gruff and low, and beautiful, and he pressed a kiss firmly against my temple. A deep inhale and exhale blew my hair across my eyes, sending a shiver through my entire, hypersensitive body. "I promise," Charlie pledged. "I promise," I pledged in return.

We walked back in silence, holding hands in the dark.

In the morning, he was gone.


	10. Part 10: Heaven is Falling

Part 10 - Heaven is Falling

I thought life without Charlie was going to be boring.

I was sorely mistaken.

It had only been three days since he'd gone, and I was having a very hard time sleeping without him in bed beside me. I missed his warmth, and his arms around me, and, hell, even his body weighing down the other side of the mattress. He hadn't owled yet, but I wasn't expecting him to do so any time soon. Before he left, he explained how remote his post was going to be, and how difficult it would be to get owls in and out without disturbing the dragons or giving away his position. All I could think was that it totally fucking figured.

And, of course, it didn't help at all that the night I happened to be lying awake in bed was also when my mom and I were first taken in Zurich. Closing my eyes seemed risky. Even blinking made horrible memories flash across my mind...

I'd just turned eighteen, and I was actually really excited about this dig. It was supposed to be a Neolithic burial ground protected by intriguing ancient curses that I'd only ever read about. Seeing them, experiencing them, and then breaking them was going to be fun.

We had a ten mile hike to reach the location. As any minimally competent cursebreaker will tell you, apparating or using port keys anywhere around magical sites is a Very Bad Idea. It can disrupt safety wards, and set off or even mutate any curses in place.

Mom and I were used to hikes like that one though, so we were still amped and ready to go when we finally arrived around midday. We were laughing happily as we trekked our way through the dense, rocky forest we'd been navigating since we left the outskirts of the city. Looking back, if we hadn't been so loud, we might've noticed the eerie, out-of-place silence we were venturing into.

"Sweetheart," I remember her stating, turning to walk backwards as she spoke to me, "Check the map. I think we're getting close."

"Whatever happened to that innate sense of direction you're always bragging about?" I teased, pushing some sweaty tendrils of escaped blonde hair out of my face. In return, my mom's dark blue eyes narrowed and she scolded, "There's a difference between always knowing where I am and making sure we're not about to walk into any of the defense wards. Don't take anything, I repeat, _anything_ for granted. You'll end up dead. And that's me talking as your mother _and_ your superior, young lady."

I snorted, digging the crisp, folded-up parchment out of my pocket as I replied, "Ya, ya. I was just kidding." After checking the map and seeing that we were indeed only about a hundred yards from the first security ward, I looked up to tell my mom.

She had a big grin on her face once more, still walking backwards as she reached over her head to tighten the ponytail in her black, messy hair. Her dark, freckled skin was shining with sweat as the sun fell down on her, and she was practically glowing. That's the last time I saw the real her.

Unnoticed, a large man with a black bandana tied around his mouth and nose had stepped out of the trees at the roadside. I saw him a second too late to scream a warning.

Still looking at me, my mom's expression changed to one of horror as she went for her wand, but it didn't do any good. The man hit her across the back of the head with a big wooden club and she crumbled to the ground without a sound. A second later, my eyes blackened as pain erupted from the back of my skull, and I realized that someone must have snuck up behind me as well. That's what my mom had seen to upset her. Both of us had been so concerned with trying to defend and warn each other that we'd left ourselves vulnerable.

I slipped from consciousness, and woke up tied to a chair...

"Ugh," I groaned, finally giving up on even trying to sleep as I shoved myself out of bed. Just sitting without anything to occupy my mind was making me remember, and I'd been trying for two years not to.

I stretched my arms over my head, noting that they were a little sore from the last training session I'd done with the Trio. Though I hate to admit it, those idiots were actually getting better. Sure, I was still severely thrashing their sorry butts every single time they sparred with me, but it was getting harder by the day. I was sure that soon they would actually be able to take care of themselves in combat without the aid of their wands, which is always a marked advantage when your enemy depends on his.

Anyways, I threw a pair of worn, baggy jean cut-offs and a black tank top on over the underwear I'd been wearing in bed. It was too hot in that house and anything else made me feel like I was melting into a puddle. Cooling charms did absolutely no good. I'm fairly sure it was some kind of curse that made it so people with "inferior" blood would never be comfortable there, but I had yet to find the source so I couldn't get to work breaking it.

Dressed, I wandered out of my room and into the dark hallway. That night was dead quiet, and it kind of unnerved me. I knew _why_ it was quiet, and that I had nothing to worry about from the quiet, but it still made me nervous.

It was a full moon, so Remus was transformed and locked securely in a cage in the basement. He'd taken wolfsbane, courtesy of Hermione, so he was docile and silent. I think Tonks snuck down to keep him company.

Bill and Roo, also affected by the moon, were in Bill's room. The girl was knocked out again, in the enchanted sleep she was always put under to keep her from feeling pain caused by the werewolf virus. Her dad was writhing, and moaning, and thrashing in the bed beside hers, in excruciating pain. I'll never get why he didn't ask to be knocked out along with her, but I guess he's just strange like that. Silencing charms were keeping the sound from reaching my ears, but I still shivered from knowing that it was going on. Poor Bill. At least he had Ginny and Mrs. Weasley in there watching over him.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had snuck out on a mission. I was fairly sure they were still looking for objects that had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, and, since I'd translated a document for them just the day before, I was also fairly sure they were looking somewhere in the Netherlands.

Mr. Weasley had been fast asleep since around eleven, as doty old men are apt to do, and the twins were spending the night doing inventory at their shop. I'm not sure where Sirius had gotten off to, but, if I had to go strictly from experience, I'd say he was probably passed out drunk with his hippogriff. I briefly considered joining him.

But then I found Draco, tripped over him, actually. He was sitting on the floor in the black and white living room. All the lights were off, and he was leaning up against the beat-up old stereo Mr. Weasley had bought me for my birthday. The kid was so pale I expected him to glow, but, instead, he just faded into the darkness.

"Ouch!" I yelped as my foot caught his leg, knocking me off balance for a moment. As soon as I steadied myself, I glared in the direction of the culprit. Thinking it was a piece of quidditch equipment left out by Ron, I brought out my wand and muttered a curt "_Lumos_."

Instead of a broom or bat, Draco Malfoy's ghost-like face became illuminated. He glanced up at me with disinterest, and then went back to staring at his bare feet. After only a second, I realized that he had earbuds on and was listening to music. It was uncharacteristically considerate of him to do so while others were sleeping.

With nothing better to do, I shut off my wand and took a seat beside the shirtless blonde, jabbing him sharply in the side before motioning him to give me one of the earbuds. Reluctantly, he did so, and as soon as I slipped it into my ear I recognized the song as one by Bad Religion called Heaven is Falling. We listened in silence.

_As I walk beneath the valley,  
I shall fear no evil  
'cuz thanks to King George and his rainbow cabinet  
today murder is regal. _

God I know that it's wrong  
to kill my brother for what he hasn't done,  
and as the planes blacken the sky  
it sounds like heaven is falling.

it sounds like heaven is falling.  
you promised me a new day a'dawning.  
I've seen a thousand points of light,  
like so many points of hatred, shame and horror.

God I want to be a man,  
but I don't want to die with a rifle in my hand,  
and as the planes blacken the sky  
it sounds like heaven is falling,

falling.

it sounds like heaven is falling.  
you promised me a new day a'dawning.  
well nothing here looks new to me  
but a score of mothers' sons  
caught 'tween the devil and the deep blue sea...

When the song was over, another did not come on, and I just sat there, feeling inexplicably chilled by the lyrics. I can't explain it, but I suddenly wanted to run away. I was tired of fighting this war, tired of killing and struggling towards some promise of peace even while no end to the bloodshed was anywhere in sight. It seemed foolish to believe in some distant future of happiness while more people were being slaughtered daily. I just wanted out.

As quickly as the feeling came, it was gone. I knew I could never leave. I had too much to protect in this life. I had my dad, and Charlie, and the Weasleys, and... family. I was tired of fighting, but I knew that was worth fighting for. It was worth anything I had to give.

"Couldn't sleep?" Draco suddenly asked, flicking the bud out of his ear as he turned to look at me. The full moon had moved out from behind the thick clouds while were listening to the song, and a sliver of light from the half-opened curtains fell across him. His pale gray-blue eyes were bloodshot and offset by dark circles, and a thoughtful scowl was putting a deep furrow in his forehead. I could barely see him, but it was clear that he was upset.

"Nope," I replied shortly, turning away to lean my head back against the stereo once again. The hardwood floor felt surprisingly cool, and I was enjoying feeling it against my bare legs.

Draco sighed deeply, shoving some sweaty hair out of his eyes as he stated, "Me either..."

I could tell something was bothering him, and I was concerned. I mean, he was an asshole, sure, and stuck up beyond belief, but deep, _deep_ down he was alright. In a twisted way, I suppose we were even friends... as much as you _can_ be friends with a person you've kneed in the balls...

"Want to talk about it?" I offered plainly, not bothering to move. It was too hot to move. That thin young man snorted, countering, "You don't care."

"Sure I do," I drawled in reply, "I'm a curious person." That finally got a laugh out of the kid, and I felt proud, grinning through the dark as I prodded, "Come on, we're the only two people up and not previously engaged. You need someone to talk to, so I'm it... and hurry up, while I'm still willing to listen."

Seeming swayed by that flawless argument, he sighed, closing his eyes before stating softly, "I was just... thinking about my mum."

"Hmm," I hummed, "Coincidentally, that's what I was thinking about, too." He glanced over at me, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he teased, "You were thinking about my mum?"

Cracking a smile, I rolled my eyes. "_My_ mom, Casper," I answered mockingly, lightly bumping my shoulder against his rather bony one, "Despite what you've been lead to believe, we don't all walk around all the time with you and your significants on our minds."

He snorted derisively, and then fell back into his meditative silence. I had to bug him to keep him talking, pressing, "So what about her?"

With one more deep sigh, the boy muttered, "Just that she's dead and what that's like... and if she hates me..."

He proceeded to relate the story of his life, how his mother was always there for him when his father was being overbearing and abusive, how he always took her presence for granted, how he ran to her for comfort but never bothered to listen to her advice. That was his biggest mistake, he said, that he never listened to her...

"She _told_ me not to do it," He moaned, turning away from me to hide his pained expression in the dark, "She told me over and over again that if I get the Mark I might as well just throw my life away for all it would do me after... I thought I knew better, and I didn't see any other choice. Because of my father's failure to obtain the prophecy, we were in danger. I thought I was protecting her, being the man..."

Slowly, he took off the wrap he always wore around his left wrist, showing me his Mark, that hideous black skull and serpent I'd grown to hate more passionately than just about anything other than the people who wore it. Needless to say, I was a bit shocked. No one had bothered to warn me that Draco was a former Death Eater. I guess that was probably because they didn't want me trying to kill him...

"I was supposed to kill Dumbledore," He continued narrating, his voice getting slightly hoarse despite the fact that he showed no signs of stopping now that I'd gotten him started, "If I did that, they promised that my mum and I would be safe. I-I tried, but I'm no killer. I tried to back out, saying that it was impossible to get people inside Hogwarts, and learned very quickly that there is no backing out of a mission from the Dark Lord... they told me they'd kill my mum if I didn't, if I didn't _'find the means and the balls'_ was how Macnair put it."

All I could do was listen patiently as he poured his heart out to me. I got the very distinct impression that he hadn't talked to _anyone_ about all of this. Sure, I wasn't thrilled with his ex-status, but that's just cruel. I lived like that. It's hard holding the grief and guilt inside. It'll kill you surer than any Unforgivable.

"So I tried again," He stated, rewrapping his wrist and looking like the Mark was causing him pain as he did it, "I was _right there_ and I just couldn't... I didn't even _like_ Dumbledore! I'm just not a killer..." After finishing off the bandage, laying his arm in his lap with a wince, the young man continued, "Severus Snape, he was the Potions Master, he did it because of Unbreakable Vow he'd made to my mum, that he would protect me, and then we ran... she was right... my life was over.

"Snape got me safely to her," Draco explained, "And then proclaimed that his Vow was kept, and disappeared. No one's seen or heard from him since. Mum and I, we ran, too, but they caught up to us about six months later..."

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he remembered, "We were in a cabin in Canada, hidden in the woods. Once a week, we had to walk into the nearest muggle town for supplies. I started talking to some kids in the market, and they... liked me. Without caring or even wanting to know who my parents were. It was nice, you know? That's when I started getting into the muggle music... Anyways, they invited me to a concert one night. I wasn't going to go. I thought it was too risky to go out like that, but my mum overheard, and she insisted... she said I was young and it was alright for me to have a little fun, that we were safe there, and the whole idea was to start a new life for ourselves."

I knew instinctively that this was going to be the part of the story that got bad. Draco had his pajama-clad knees drawn up, his elbows resting on top of them as he held his white-blonde head in his hands. This was hard. I remembered being where he was. I also remembered how good it felt just to have Charlie put an arm around me, to know that he cared and was listening while I got everything off my chest. So that's what I did. I put my arm around Draco's shaking shoulders.

He looked up in surprise, genuinely confused by the show of compassion. Poor kid probably hadn't experienced much of it in his life. I just smiled, prompting, "It's ok. Keep going."

With a nod, he did just that. "I had the best time ever," He stated, smiling wistfully, "It was this unbelievably wicked grunge metal show. Mosh pits, mohawks, piercings, people in ripped jeans and flannel. All the stuff I'd been sheltered from my whole life. And these kids I went with, they were great, too... they _liked_ me... just for _me_..."

He let his head drop again, and I patted his back reassuringly. After another moment of silence, he went on, "One of the girls in the group, her name was Natara, but everyone called her Nat, she... I guess she had a crush on me, and she offered to walk home with me... I liked her, too. She was pretty, short black hair with pink streaks in the front, brown eyes, and just the most innocent face you've ever seen... anyways, we get to the front porch, and she grabs my hand, and pulls me over, and leans in like she's gonna kiss me..."

Draco started to choke on his words, trying to hide his face and the tears I could see welling up in his already bloodshot eyes. Again, I just gently rubbed his back, remaining silent. Eventually, he continued, "And then I see over her shoulder someone standing in the dark... I still don't know who it was. I heard the curse, and saw the green light, and Nat was dead... and I ran. I fucking ran, like the coward I am. I knew my mum was dead by then, and I'd gotten Nat killed, and I just _ran..._"

With one furious swipe at his eyes, he gritted his teeth and kept talking, "I didn't have a wand, and only a few dollars, and I had to keep out of the towns. I was running for about two weeks before the _Golden Trio_ caught up with me... apparently, they'd been looking for me because Potter wanted his vengeance... I think he was planning to kill me, and then I was on my knees just ready to die, and he stopped. He wasn't a killer either, I guess. He finally just told me to get lost, but... I needed protection. I knew he was working with the Order, and they were the only ones who could help me... so I made a deal with him. I traded him the one thing he really wanted..."

Draco actually laughed, muttering, "You should've seen his face when I told him. I couldn't decide whether he was going to punch me or cry..."

"What did you give him?" I inquired softly, reminding Draco that I was there and listening. He brought his head up, closing his eyes once more as he leaned back against the stereo. "Sirius," He proclaimed, "He'd been lost behind the veil, and I could get him out again."

This _was_ getting interesting. "My mum had this old family heirloom," The boy explained, "Something from her Black side. It was a ring that she gave me, made by my great, great, great something or other, and it could summon anyone with Black blood in them, no matter where they were. She gave it to me in case we ever got separated, so I could summon her to me... it's how I ended up getting her body back from the cabin... she was so... so... _mangled_... I could barely look at her while I was digging the grave..."

He had to pause for a moment to compose himself, shuddering beneath my arm as he bit back tears, but finally went on, "Anyways, I figured that the ring would work on Sirius. I didn't know for sure, but it was worth a try. I made the deal for safety, and then I summoned Black right there..."

He snorted before going on, "It couldn't believe it worked. And he was none the worse for wear. In fact, he didn't even know years had past since he went behind the veil... and _that_ is the long, sad story of how I ended up here. They only just tolerate me because of that deal, but it could be worse, I guess... I was thinking of all that, and how my mum probably hates me for abandoning her, and being stupid, and getting her killed... not to mention Nat... she wasn't even a part of this and would still be alive if she'd never met me..."

With the story finally over, we sat in silence for another moment or two, my arm still around Draco's shoulders. Eventually, I soothed, "Neither of them hates you, and it wasn't your fault. Things played out how they did, and you can't go back and change them. I know it's not exactly easy, but you just have to accept that. You made poor choices, but you thought you were protecting your mum. The only people at fault for those deaths are the killers..."

"Ya, but-" He attempted to argue with me, but I do not like to have my authority questioned on matters such as this one and immediately cut him off. "Listen to me," I ordered gruffly, reminding myself to be a little kind, "My mom was killed by them, too. They sent the Moros after us to get to Remus."

Draco immediately winced. Everyone knew the Moros. They were famous for torture and pain. "I could blame myself," I insisted, "And I did for awhile. I saw them coming before she did, but I was distracted and didn't act quick enough to stop them from capturing us. I could also blame Remus. He was the reason they came in the first place. They spent a month trying to beat a location she didn't have out of my mom. I could blame a lot of people, but, in the end, I had to realize that the only ones _truly_ to blame are the killers. Don't put your anger in the wrong place. If you do, there won't be nearly enough left for the ones who really deserve it."

"I'm not angry," He insisted softly, actually giving in to my gesture of kindness and leaning his head onto my shoulder, "I guess I just think about it too much..." He trailed off, and, after another few moments in silence, added, "Thanks for listening. It did help."

Smiling widely and quite glad that I'd made him feel a little better, I responded, "Any time, mate."

xxXxx

Draco and I listened to music for the rest of the night. It was nice. Neither of us found sleep, but at least we didn't have to be alone. A little past five o'clock in the morning, I heard the front door open, and then a bloodcurdling scream nearly made me jump straight out of my skin.

"_JULLIE DOMME IDIOTEN! LAAT ME LOS! WAAR NEMEN JULLIE MIJ MEE NAAR TOE? IK VERMOORD JULLIE!_"

I was on my feet in two seconds, my wand gripped firmly in my hand. I wasn't entirely sure, but I could've sworn someone was swearing in Dutch, and that they had just said, "You stupid idiots! Let go! Where are you taking me? I'll kill you!" Strange...

Draco turned the lights on just in time for Harry and Ron to enter the room, holding a screaming little blonde child by the arms between them. Ok, getting more insane by the second...

"Oh, Leila! Thank Merlin!" Ron shouted as soon as he saw me, looking to be at the end of his rope. He was filthy, and had a cut on his cheek that was bleeding quite severely, not to mention several twigs sticking out of his bright red hair. "You've got to get her to calm down!" He insisted, cutting himself off to let loose with a string of nasty swears as the blonde child--a girl, I'd finally noticed, probably in her pre-teens--managed to kick him hard in the shin.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded, a bit curious as to why he and Harry were picking on the poor thing. She looked so sweet, all gangly-limbed and pudgy-cheeked, wearing a bright green cartoon character t-shirt and worn blue cotton pajama shorts.

With an exasperated grunt, Hermione entered, limping, and explained peevishly, "We went to Holland to track down an artifact we thought her family might have, but Death Eaters followed us and attacked. We saved her, but I don't think she realizes we're not going to hurt her."

"And you haven't been able to tell her yourselves because you bunch of idiots went to a foreign country with no way of communicating with the people, right?" I demanded crossly, really growing annoyed with the amount of incompetence in their plan, "How were you even expecting to get this artifact without talking to the people who had it? Were you just going to steal the thing?"

Hermione grew red in the face as she finally managed to limp her way over to a couch, and had to shout over the still hysterical Dutch cursing as she answered, "That is completely beside the point! This girl was in danger, and we saved her! Now tell her so!"

"Does no one in this infernal operation have a brain?" I raged, walking over to kneel by the girl, figuring I'd get on her good side by chewing out the people she took to be her attackers, "They send by _far_ the three stupidest members out on important missions they're _grossly_ under-qualified for, and just expect everything to work out for the best? One day, your dumb luck is going to run out and a lot of people are going to end up dead!" Thoroughly chastised, Hermione shut her fucking mouth. The angry Dutch minus the angry Hermione was like music to my ears.

"_Hoi, mijn naam is Leila_" (Hi, my name's Leila) I figured I'd start with the basics. Seeming relieved to finally hear something she could actually understand, the blonde girl instantly got a lot calmer, although she still seemed pissed and scared out of her mind. She sighed heavily, her whole body shaking and her pale blue eyes wide as she answered sheepishly, "_Ik ben Lisebet._" (I'm Lisebet).

I smiled, trying to put her at ease as I said, "_Leuk om kennis met je te maken. Het spijt me dat deze drie je bang maakten, maar als je rustig blijft, zal ik uitleggen wat er aan de hand is . Niemand gaat je pijn doen, dat beloof ik je._" (Nice to meet you. I'm sorry that these three scared you, but if you calm down for a moment, I can explain what's going on. I promise, no one's going to hurt you.)

Definitely relieved, she nodded, and I instantly commanded, "Harry, Ron, let go of her." Too scared of me to argue, they did just that, and Lisebet immediately stomped hard on one of each of their feet before running to hide behind me. I was starting to like this kid.

"_HUFTERS!_" She spat at them, making me crack up. She called them assholes. Hehe. They so were.

"_Lisebet, ben jij een heks?_" (Lisebet, are you a witch?) Was my first question, since I thought it was important to figure out just how much I was going to have to explain. I was still kneeling on the ground, but had turned around, and was just a little too short to be at eyelevel with the young girl.

She nodded, stating matter-of-factly, "_Ja, maar ik heb mijn toverstok niet bij me. Je vrienden sleurden mij uit mijn huis! Ze bliezen dingen op! Ik was alleen maar opgestaan om een glas water te pakken!_" (Yes, but I don't have my wand with me. Your friends grabbed me out of my house! They were blowing things up! I was just getting a glass of water!)

I got up from the floor then, taking her hand and guiding her to sit beside me on one of the old black couches. "_Dat zijn Harry, Ron en Hermione,_" I explained gravely, "_En ze namen je alleen mee omdat duistere tovenaars je huis aanvielen._" (Their names are Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and they only grabbed you because dark wizards were attacking your house.) Her eyes got huge, and I continued, "_Ze wilden er zeker van zijn dat je geen pijn had._" (They just wanted to make sure you weren't hurt.)

"_En mijn familie dan?_" (What about my family?) She whimpered, already beginning to cry, "_Zij zijn daar nog steeds!_" (They're all still there!)

I was getting a headache from the sheer amount of stupid in the room, and had to rub away a throbbing pain in my temples as I turned to the Trio and demanded, "PLEASE, tell me you did not leave the rest of the family there with the Death Eaters."

"Of course not!" Hermione snapped. Harry, who was quietly brooding near the door as he rubbed his bruised foot, announced, "The Death Eaters killed the mother and kidnapped the father, probably to torture for information on why we were there."

"Just brilliant," I moaned, really dreading having to tell the poor girl that her mother was dead and her father was probably wishing he was. This wasn't fair.

"_Het spijt me,_" I stated sadly, holding one of her small hands in both of mine, "_De duistere tovenaars doodden je moeder en kidnapten je vader._" (I'm sorry. The dark wizards killed your mother and kidnapped your father.)

For a few moments, everything was silent. Lisebet looked at me like she was waiting to wake up from a bad dream. And then she started to cry. I pulled her into my arms and let her soak my shirt with her tears.

It went like that for another ten minutes or so, just me trying to comfort the poor thing and everyone else respectfully keeping their mouths shut.

But then the girl suddenly sat up, hysterical as she started screaming, "_En Danel dan? Waar is Danel?_" (What about Danel? Where's Danel?)

"_Wie is Danel?_" (Who's Danel?) I inquired, a sickening sense of foreboding already making my stomach tighten painfully. This could not be good.

"_Mijn kleine broertje!_" She sobbed urgently, heartbroken and terrified, "_Hij is nog maar vijf jaar oud!_"

Oh god.

Her little brother.

He was only five years old...

xxXxx

It only took me giving Harry the worst shiner of his life to get him to take me back to that house to find the little boy. Ok, I probably could've asked him to do it before I punched him, but I was _pissed_. A little girl had just lost both her parents, and the trio of idiots who led the killers there hadn't even bothered to look for survivors. Like most of their successes, they had only seen Lisebet by sheer chance, as she happened to be up out of her bed for a glass of water in the middle of the night. If she hadn't been...

I swear to god, I wanted to kill those three. I was going to work them into the ground at their next training session!

That's how I found myself in Holland, near the mouth of the _Nieuwe Maas_, a river that divides North and South Rotterdam. The area was rural, heavily wooded, and protected by anti-apparition wards, so we had to walk along an unlit dirt road to reach the house. I kept my pace fast and my eyes open, training my wand on any suspicious shadow and continually fingering the large kitchen knife I'd stuck in the back waistband of my jeans.

Harry was leading, with me following close behind and Ron and Hermione keeping a close watch for trouble a few paces back. We'd left only minutes after Lisebet's startling announcement, just long enough for me to punch Harry, demand to be taken to the house, and put Draco in charge of comforting the distraught girl.

The sun would rise soon, and I could see a glow just over the horizon. But, since we were walking west and the sun is supposed to rise from the east, something was wrong with that picture... My blood ran cold and my body began to shiver in the humid summer night. I broke into a run, shoving Harry to the side as I sprinted the remaining distance up a small hill.

And there it was, a quaint little blue cottage surrounded by a wooden fence that kept the tulips and field grasses back from the clean swept dirt yard. It looked like it should have had a windmill turning a top it, and, had it not been on fire, I would've said it looked like a perfect place to raise a family.

Only, it _was_ on fire. And a little boy was probably trapped inside.

"SHIT!" I swore loudly, hearing similar curses from the three morons as they ran behind me. My first instinct was to try to put out the blaze, but I couldn't get the water to spell out of my wand nearly fast enough to stop the fire from consuming the two story wooden house. I was drenched in sweat, and my eyes burned from the smoke, and I could feel myself just _cooking_ from standing so close. It was like being in an oven, being a piece of meat in an oven and feeling yourself being slowly roasted to perfection. There was no hope of putting it out. I made up my mind in just seconds.

"You, Harry!" I commanded, reeling on the teen, "Give me you shirt!" At his look of puzzlement, I felt a wave of white hot rage wash over me from head to toe, and immediately screamed, "DO IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"

With a look of fright, the fire reflecting off his round spectacles as his unruly black hair began sticking to his sweat slick forehead, he did as he was told. I tore the black t-shirt with my bare hands, shoving one half in my pocket and wetting the other before tying it snugly around my mouth and nose to provide some protection from the smoke.

And then I ran into the house, ignoring the Trio's cries of alarm.

If I thought it was hot outside, inside was ten times worse. It wasn't just being cooked anymore; it was being on the brink of spontaneous combustion. My eyes stung so badly that I was hardly able to navigate my way through the flames and falling debris, and I was coughing like my lungs were going to fly out of my chest.

"_DANEL!_" But I still managed to shout for the boy, shooting as much spell water as I could in order to clear a path for myself. Photos were turning to piles of smoldering ash as they crumbled from the walls, and I remember seeing one of the little family just before it was consumed. In front of a field of clear blue sky, the blonde mother and father had Lisebet and a little dark haired boy closed tightly in their arms. They were all so beautiful, and happy, and then they caught fire. And then they were gone.

"_DANEL!_" I shrieked once more, throwing over quaint patterned couches in the living room as I searched, "_Ben je hierbinnen, Danel? Kom alsjeblieft tevoorschijn! Ik zal je geen pijn doen!_" (Are you in here, Danel? Please, come out! I'm not going to hurt you!)

No answer. No sign of him. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._

I was coughing a lot more now, and getting lightheaded as I breathed in more and more smoke. I wouldn't give up though. I crouched lower to the ground and kept looking.

In the kitchen, I tripped over the mother's body. I recognized her from the picture. She was very pretty, with long blonde hair and brown eyes that were frozen open, glazed over, dead. There was nothing I could do for her but try to find her son.

"_DANEL!_" I kept screaming, navigating my way up a narrow staircase, almost falling through a half-burned step near the top. My foot was caught for about three seconds, and I felt a sense of panic like you wouldn't even believe.

But then I was up again, determined to find that boy. I was a lot more careful on the second story, able to hear the wood floors creaking under the strain of my weight as I went down the hallway and searched every single room.

It would figure that the one farthest from the stop of the stairs was the one where the boy was hiding. I heard coughing as soon as I stepped in, even over the roars and crashes as the house came down around me. It was a cute room, very little boy, sports stars on the walls and stuffed animals on the bed. He was hiding under the bed.

"_Danel_," I stated gently but urgently as I bent down to pull the little boy out. He was crying, and tried to fight me off, but I held him tight. As I pulled the other half of Harry's t-shirt out of my pocket and wetted it, I said, "_Mijn naam is Leila. Ik ben hier om je te helpen. Je zus, Lisebet, stuurde me om je te helpen. Vertrouw me alsjeblieft . Ik ga je hier uit krijgen._" (My name is Leila. I'm here to help you. Your sister, Lisebet, she sent me to help you. Please trust me. I'm going to get you out of here.)

At the mention of his sister, the sputtering child started all out bawling, his green eyes red and his sooty little face tear-stained as he sobbed, "_Waar is Lisebet? Waar is mijn mama? Ik wil mijn mama!_" (Where's Lisebet? Where's my mommy? I want my mommy!)

"_Lisebet is veilig,_" I soothed, hugging him to my chest as I shielded his head from more chunks of the falling ceiling. A piece fell on my back, and I bit back a cry of pain as I felt it sear right through my thin tank top, scorching my arms and shoulders. I could smell burnt flesh, but kept my mind on saving the boy, tying the wet fabric around his mouth and nose as I told him, "_Ik breng je naar haar toe. Ze is erg bezorgd om je._" (Lisebet is safe. I'm bringing you to her. She was very worried about you.)

"_Mama!_" He whimpered, throwing his pudgy little arms around my neck, "_Ik wil mijn mama!_" (Mommy! I want my mommy!)

"Shhh," I comforted, my head spinning from the smoke and pain and exertion. I picked up the little brunette and hurried through flames that had nearly blocked the door, calming, "_Je zal snel veilig zijn._" (You'll be safe soon.)

The stairs were a lot trickier this time. I'd only been on the second floor for five minutes, tops, but they were already mostly gone. I had to jump down nearly the entire thing, and landed hard on my burnt shoulder. It hurt. It hurt like fucking hell, especially since I'm pretty sure I landed on more hot embers. Still, I kept my goal in mind. I chanted it like a mantra.

_"Save the boy. Save the boy. Save the boy."_

I protected him in my arms when I jumped, and, after rolling through my landing, was right back on my feet and rushing him out.

Only I heard a spell shouted and turned just in time to catch it with my back instead of letting it hit Danel. It knocked me clean off my feet, throwing me across the living room. I knew before I hit the floor in the kitchen that it was a blasting curse. I'd had them used on me many times before, and they never get any less unpleasant, but I didn't let go of the boy. He was clutching me compulsively, terrified, and confused, and just crying his eyes out. I had to get him away.

I heard the next curse, and heard that it was a killing curse, and scrambled to hide us behind the overturned kitchen table. The green spell light went straight through a weak spot in the charred wood and scorched the linoleum just inches from my leg. That was way too close.

Holding Danel with one arm, I returned fire over the top of the table with every nasty curse, hex, and jinx I could think of, which turned out to be quite an awful lot. I'm pretty sure I hit our attacker, who I could only see was wearing a black hooded robe, quite a few times if his yelps of pain were any indication. As we did battle, the house continued to come down around us, flaming wood falling as the smoke turned thick enough to make me choke.

I was vaguely aware of Danel screaming for his mother. Then I remembered that her body was in the kitchen. He could see her, and I had to hold him that much tighter to keep the poor sobbing boy from running over to her.

My eyes were watering so badly that it was hard to keep them open. After a few minutes, I could barely see the attacker anymore; only new bursts of spellfire clued me into his position. That was not good.

Danel was crying, and slowly passing out in my arms as the smoke overcame him, and that was worse. I decided that I would have to risk making a run for the back door, which was about five feet behind us. I clutched the boy tightly, and closed my eyes, and bolted.

The door was locked, but I threw my body weight into it and it slammed open. Choking, and filthy, and burned, and pained, and straining, I tumbled backwards down the steps there, watching with horrified detachment as another killing curse shot through the air millimeters from my nose, right where my head would've been if I hadn't tripped. Shit.

The wind was knocked from my body with a loud thump and "OOF!" as I crashed into the dirt. I didn't have the few seconds I wanted to get my breathing normal and my head to stop spinning. I just ran, my chest tight and locked up as my eyes bulged in my head. I started feeling weak within just a few steps.

I heard all three members of the Trio frantically shouting "LEILA!" but they sounded like they were still waiting for me to come out at the front of the house. They couldn't see us at the back. Danel was rousing now that he was out in the fresher air, and I looked over my shoulder to find the hooded Death Eater following us out the back door. There was only one thing to do.

"RUN, DANEL!" I shouted, coughing and nearly doubled over as I shoved him towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Turning to face the attacker, I amended my command to, "_RENNEN!_" (RUN!) Still obviously scared out of his wits, the boy did as he was told, sniffling and stumbling across the yard while his family home burned behind him. I really hoped that the Trio spotted the kid, but I couldn't risk letting him stay and get hurt while I dueled some maniac Death Eater. This way, he had a better probability of survival.

Wheezing, I took a fighting stance, holding my wand out as I let my other hand slowly move behind my back to rest on the handle of the knife, assuring myself that it was still there. The Death Eater was tall, and I could almost see his face now that he was getting closer, now that there wasn't so much smoke between us. He had his wand out as well, his thin lips curled into a furious sneer. We faced off like that for what seemed like an eternity.

"_TRUNCO!_" "_VULNERO!_" We both shouted at once, both managing to dodge the other's spell. He was getting closer, and I was overtaken by another coughing fit. I couldn't run. I fell to my knees and kept choking out weak, ineffective spells, my head feeling like an overfilled balloon.

My vision swam, but I wasn't about to give up so easily. And the Death Eater made just about the biggest tactical mistake that you can: he got too close to his enemy.

He was standing over me, laughing--he had a deep voice--and seeming to be gloating over his victory as he raised his wand to bring down a killing stroke.

That's when I managed to kick my leg out and sweep both of his out from under him. The _Kedavra_ went wild into the air as he fell straight onto his ass.

Before he could even manage to be startled, I rolled and slammed my elbow right into his throat... hard... I could feel his Adam's apple crunch.

With a startled cry of pain, he doubled up and started gasping, choking as the sides of his windpipe collapsed against each other. Hard as he was trying, he couldn't even find the breath to cast a spell and apparently didn't have the concentration for a wordless one.

But he still had strength enough to grab me by the hair and yank my head back with so much force that it felt like every muscle in my neck was tearing. I was in pain, but still tried to bring my wand up and cast a curse. The Death Eater, his hood was off now and I could see he had limp brown hair and hollow, pock-marked cheeks, seized hold of my right wrist. With a vicious twist, it was broken, and I screamed in pain as my wand was flung into the dirt a few yards away. So not good.

Trying to fight my way up as I cradled the injury close to my body, I somehow ended up stepping on his wand hand, crushing all the fingers and knocking his wand away as he rolled and grabbed my ankle with the other hand. He was howling, but still pulled me face down into the dirt.

A vicious wrestling match ensued, both of us punching and kicking and scratching--and biting, the fucker bit me!--fighting for our lives as we attempted to pin each other and get to one of the dropped wands. They were out of reach of both of us, and neither could get any closer without releasing our opponent. It was nearly a stalemate.

And then I heard sobbing, and stupidly let my guard down long enough to glance up and suddenly see that Danel hadn't run to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He was clinging to the wood fence that wound around the clean swept dirt yard, watching our fight and crying. Shit.

But in the time it took me to investigate the sobbing, the Death Eater managed to get the upper hand, flipping me onto my back, straddling my hips, and closing his large hands on my throat. I could feel the life being squeezed out of me. He was going to strangle me to death.

Good thing I remembered the knife, its handle jabbing into my back at an opportune moment, and I managed to wriggle it far enough out to grab hold of. And then it was over. I grasped it firmly in my uninjured left hand and brought the blade up into the Death Eater's chest, hard, with all the force I could muster.

It sunk in to the hilt, the man immediately loosening his grip as he gasped for air and poured blood down into my face. I managed to shove him off of me then, bringing myself onto my hands and knees as I choked and coughed and just _breathed again_. My throat burned. I couldn't swallow. And I was drenched in blood. Gradually, I struggled to my feet, still lightheaded and totally pissed off.

The Death Eater was writhing on his back in the dirt, weakly trying to pull the knife out of his chest as he stained the ground around him red. Like a fountain, he was spewing flecks of blood from out of his mouth, and they were landing right back on his face. They looked almost like freckles. He was no longer a threat, but I could suddenly hear my mom's voice chime, "_Don't take anything, I repeat, _anything_ for granted. You'll end up dead. And that's me talking as your mother _and_ your superior, young lady_."

I pulled my knife out of the man's chest, and then I used it to separate his head from the rest of him.

_"Better safe than sorry."_

By that time, sounds of the fight had finally reached the Trio's ears--I suspect that they couldn't hear my screams over their own inane and useless shouting--and I turned around from the corpse just in time for them to run around the side of the house. Their mouths dropped in horror when they saw me, and I was later told that it was because I looked like an absolute madwoman. I was standing over a decapitated body, covered head-to-toe in blood. I had a gigantic, bloody knife in my hand and an absolutely _feral_ gleam in my eyes.

But then another coughing fit overtook me, and I fell to my knees again as I hacked and gasped into my hands. Smoke inhalation and strangulation are a bad combination... Hehe, I rhymed...

"LEILA!" Ron shrieked, snapping himself out of the terrified daze and running right for me. He kneeled at my side, pounding on my back as he swore, "Shit! Fuck! What the hell happened to you?"

My nearly crushed voice box still making me unable to speak, all I could do was point furiously with my unbroken arm to where Danel was defensively clinging to the wooden fence. God, he'd seen everything...

Hermione went straight for the boy, coaxing him with soft words he couldn't understand as she gently picked him up from the ground. He was filthy, covered in ash and dirt, and still wide eyed with fright. He was staring right at me, like I was a monster... at least he was safe...

With that taken care of, Harry and Ron helped me stand, and we ran back along the dirt road we'd followed in the beginning. This time, the glow just on the other side of the horizon really was the sunrise.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Dutch is actually correct, though it wasn't before. A very nice person named RebeccaRockChick corrected it for me because she is amazing. I'm in the process of replacing the rest of the Dutch in the story with her corrections

In other news, today... or actually yesterday by now, was my birthday! I am NINETEEN! throws handfuls of confetti, stuffs face with cake.

Reviewers hold a special place in my heart forever and ever.


	11. Part 11: Gray Area

Part 11 - Gray Area

"OW!" I coughed hoarsely, glaring over my shoulder at Tonks, "Watch it! I'm not a damn scratch-n-sniff!"

She was a brunette again that morning, and pissed enough to be sporting blazing red vampire eyes. The metamorphamagus scowled at me before roughly turning my head around and shoving it back into the bowl I'd been slumped over for the past twenty minutes. "Shut your fucking mouth," The irate woman ordered, resuming her task of picking and scraping debris out of the large burn across the top of my back, "Just keep breathing in that steam and being bloody thankful you didn't get more roasted than you did! When your dad hears about this he's gonna go spare! What were you thinking running into a burning building?"

With a growl, I sat up out of the foul smelling potion used to treat severe smoke inhalation, and rasped, "I was thinking that there was a little boy in that house who was going to get burned alive if I didn't save him! Maybe if you people didn't let the Three Stooges out unsupervised-"

"HEY!" Hermione cut me off, stomping her way over with her hands on her hips, "You can't call us that! We didn't do anything wrong! We didn't know he was in there!"

"Shut you excuse-hole, Curly!" I ordered in reply, standing up and thumping her sharply on the nose. It wasn't too hard, but hard enough to make her eyes water as her hands flew up to shield her face from more abuse.

"You can't reason your way out of this one!" I yelled, my voice still gravely and barely useable from having breathed in so much smoke, not to mention having gotten strangled by that Death Eater. "You, Larry, and Moe fucked up beyond all comprehension!" I raged, mostly undeterred by the fact that I could hardly speak, "I didn't even think it was _possible_ for anyone to be that stupid! You _cannot_ argue ignorance when it was _your_ responsibility to find these things out! You should've known _before_ going in what you were dealing with and covered all your bases! You should've been prepared! But, NO! Instead, you plan some half-arsed cat burglary in a country where you don't speak the language! Not only that, but you get yourselves SEEN AND FOLLOWED? I am a wanted felon and I've been walking around in town for months without drawing suspicion! Two minutes in Holland and you got the goddamn KKK wanna-bes after you! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU THAT GODDAMN STUPID?"

I had more, but that was when I started coughing again. Hermione also burst into tears and ran from the room, but I could've cared less about what the crazy bitch was going through. Being unable to breathe trumps guilt tears. Besides, maybe if she felt guilty enough, she'd do things right next time. That is what psychologists like to call _negative reinforcement._

"You didn't have to make her cry!" Ron growled, jumping up from where he'd been reluctantly letting Hermione apply healing salve to the large cut on his cheek before she'd gone all psycho, "It wasn't our fault!"

"Did I... _say_ it... was your fault... Larry?" Was my reply, uttered between desperate gasps for air, "No, I said... I said you were a bunch of... fucking idiots... who can't do... anything right!" The redhead glared at me briefly, and then stomped off after his distraught girlfriend. Good riddance to two stupid people who should never breed.

"LEILA! SIT DOWN!" Tonks ordered, steadying me as I wobbled on my feet. All that screaming and coughing had gotten me lightheaded again. Damn smoke inhalation and strangulation! Damn them both to hell!

"You're not going to get any better if you don't stop that!" She hissed, dragging me back to my backwards chair at the kitchen table and shoving me down none too gently to straddle it. After forcing my face into the noxious steam bath that was supposedly healing my lungs, the woman resumed picking at my burns with a curt command of, "Tell them how stupid they are later, when you can breathe, and aren't _charbroiled_."

I was far too dizzy and pained to argue, so I submitted to the treatment, groaning softly as I braced my right arm closer to my body. It was still broken and hurt like fucking hell--like most of the rest of me--but it was thankfully in a sturdy splint. Since it was the least severe of my injuries, I'd been told it would have to wait until last to be healed. Too bad it was my wand hand or else I could've just done it myself. It's not like I never had before.

I didn't remember until right that moment that I was still drenched in the Death Eater's blood. It was soaking my scorched clothing, and matting my hair, and flaking uncomfortable as it dried on my face and arms. It didn't necessarily bother me that it was blood; I was covered head-to-toe in ash and dirt, too, and just felt kind of gross and wanted a shower.

Don't expect some tear-filled _I can't believe I'm a murder_ drama. I was a murder long before I killed that guy, and I had no regrets. He was scum. I did the world a favor.

Harry was glaring at me from the other side of the room, and after several long minutes of enduring it in patience and silence, I began to get annoyed. "What are you lookin' at, Moe?" I demanded, my voice still a rough croak.

"You killed that guy," He responded snappishly. I raised a skeptical eyebrow, challenging, "So?"

"We don't kill people if we don't have to," He gritted in reply, his green eyes narrow behind the filmy lenses of his thick black glasses, "And we certainly don't _cut their heads off_."

"You cut someone's head off?" Tonks gaped, clumsily yanking a large chunk of flesh out with whatever else she was removing from my burn. After a loud hiss of pain, I impatiently answered, "YES! Why the fuck not? He was a Death Eater! He was probably the one who set the fire! And, oh ya, HE WAS TRYING TO KILL _ME!_ I was taking out a threat!"

"We... we don't _do_ that," Tonks reported blankly, sounding absolutely horrified, "We're... _the good guys._"

Oh. My. God... These people obviously had a very different take on our situation than I did. "This is a war," I finally ground out, shoving Tonks off me as I got up from the table again, throwing both her and Harry looks of contempt, "There are no _good guys_ or _bad guys._ It's just _us_, _them_, and whoever happens to be caught in the fucking crossfire."

My breathing was a bit better, and I couldn't take anymore human interaction for the moment. I decided I'd leave and get my injuries healed up after I calmed down. I was in danger of killing again if I didn't calm down.

I was on my way out the door, but stopped in my tracks when Tonks called, "Is that really what you think of this? Not a fight for what's right, just us and them having it out?"

With as deep a breath as I could muster, I turned back around. "Yes," I informed her plainly, feeling rather annoyed, "That's all. There's no honor in war. There's just victory and defeat, the corpses and the ones left standing. We fight to win because losing will cost us everything. With that in mind, you should be willing to do anything to win, to protect yourself, and your family, and your friends, and your way of life. Show no mercy, take no prisoners, be ten times as ruthless as your worst enemy; maim, kill, destroy, conquer, and leave the rest to the history books."

"Then there's no difference between good and evil," Harry chimed in, actually seeming a lot less angry. In fact, the young man looked like he was thinking deeply over my words.

I smiled, feeling slightly proud. Maybe there was hope for the boy yet. Bluntly, I stated, "Welcome to the gray area, mother fucker. Morals are your biggest disadvantage." I walked away then, leaving the kitchen in a stunned silence.

xxXxx

I was in so. much. _pain_.

It hurt to move, to breathe, to just keep my swollen eyes open. I should've gone back down and let Tonks keep fixing the damage, but I really couldn't handle anymore of her and Harry looking at me like I was a bloodthirsty psychopath just because I'm realistic about the world.

Don't get me wrong, I understood why we were fighting, why it was necessary, but I didn't think of myself as being one of the _good guys_. Hell, until a few months before, I had been nothing but a mercenary in my own employ, out for revenge. Now, I was fighting for my family and friends, but I still wasn't one of the _good guys_. I was just willing to do anything it took to protect what I loved, what I'd gained after having nothing.

Like I said, it was an us and them situation, winners and losers, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure we were the winners. If history has taught me anything it's that you have to win to be right.

I managed to limp my way upstairs, biting back moans of agony with every step. I had yet to take a full inventory of my injuries, but I know now that I had the broken arm, the large, third-degree burn covering most of my upper back, heat blisters all over my arms and legs--shorts and a tank top probably weren't the best choice of attire for my firefighting expedition--and torn muscles all through my neck, which were making it nearly impossible to turn my head. I had bruises everywhere, the left side of my ribs and lower back (catching the blasting curse), my right shoulder (breaking down the back door), and, sadly, my ass (landing after catching the blasting curse and breaking down the back door). Not to mention the dark, hand-shaped ring of contusions circling my neck from where I'd been strangled. My throat still burned like crazy and I could barely force myself to swallow.

I'd also singed off about an inch and a half of my long, sandy blonde hair, but that wasn't such a big deal; it always did grow fast. At least I was still standing... for the moment, anyways.

"Shit," I groaned, making it just inside my ugly mauve room before having to take a knee and catch my breath. I was wheezing horribly, and remember thinking that that's what it must've felt like to be an out of shape jogger...

At the same moment, Sirius happened to be wandering by. He was a bit hungover, after having spent the night before drinking until he passed out with his hippogriff (big surprise). He smelled horribly, and was on his way for a shower.

Instead, he saw me on the floor in my room, all beat up and struggling to breathe, and instantly rushed to my aid. "Leila!" The man yelped, falling to my side, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Long story," I grunted, "Dutch girl. Mission. Fire. Three Stooges. Help, please?" Even though I know for a fact he was completely confused, Sirius did just that, carefully carrying me the last three steps to my bed before sitting me down on it.

"Why aren't you getting healed?" He demanded, sounding slightly annoyed and very... _adult._ Despite his graying hair, I didn't really associate Sirius with adultness. "You're in no condition to be walking around," The man continued, his voice actually scolding as he pushed long, stringy bunches of hair out of his eyes, "What happened?"

"Ask someone else," I responded, feeling my exhaustion catch up with me. I was so tired, and suddenly remembered that I hadn't gotten much sleep in the past few days. That, plus the fight and resulting injuries had really worn on me. My eyes dropping shut as I carefully lowered myself down onto my stomach, I muttered, "Just let me sleep for awhile, and then I'll go get fixed up, ok?"

Sirius made some sort of answer, but I can't remember what it was. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

xxXxx

When Remus emerged from the basement a few hours later, haggard, tired, and aching, he was immediately met by the sight of an angry, demonic-eyed metamorph pacing angrily throughout the dingy kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. He was concerned, and, according to my sources, the conversation that followed went something like this:

"What's the matter, love?" Remus inquired sweetly, forcing a tired smile as he began making himself a cup of tea and trying to look for the new secret location of the junk food stash (Mrs. Weasley hated the stuff, so all the other inhabitants had to have a secret stash, and it was moved every few days so that she wouldn't get wise).

"Your infernal, absolutely _impossible_ daughter, that's what's the matter!" Tonks growled back, throwing her arms up in frustration, "You are never going to _believe_ what she did!"

Frowning, my dad bit into a chocolate bar, and, expecting to hear that I got drunk or beat someone up again, asked cautiously, "Well... what did she do?" After composing herself slightly, Tonks proceeded to relate the events of that morning, my "recklessness," and "disregard for my own life," and "warped view of good and evil." Remus' eyes just kept getting wider and wider until they looked like they would engulf the rest of his face.

"She... she... _ran into a burning building?_" He gaped, his hands shaking around his cup of tea before it finally just slipped and crashed to the floor. The poor man was in shock, guiltily battling with the emotions anger, fear, and... pride.

"Yes!" Tonks snapped back, oblivious as she continued with her tirade, "And she was damn lucky not to have been hurt worse than she was!"

Remus looked like he was sprouting more and more gray hairs by the second, sounding horrified as he whimpered, "She was _hurt?_"

Impatiently, Tonks listed, "Burns, bruises, broken arm, smoke inhalation... I was _trying_ to treat her, but she got all pissy and ran away! I'm afraid of getting my _head cut off_ if I go after her! SHE CUT OFF SOME GUY'S HEAD!"

"My daughter is walking around hurt, and all you're worried about is yourself?" My dad growled, bringing out his wand and cleaning up the shattered tea cup with a quick flick. He was offended and angered by his girlfriend's statement, reproaching, "Yes, she's imbalanced, but can you blame her for being that way? You- You saw what they did to Sid! You saw her body! Leila watched while they did that to her mother! Of course she's angry and vicious, but I'll let her be as angry and vicious as she wants to as long as she's alive and safe!"

Slightly stunned that he was talking to her that way, that he was so aggressive when he's nearly always so docile, Tonks almost couldn't think of a reply. And then she did, narrowing her eyes as she hissed, "So your solution is to ignore her problem then? That's nice, Remus. Way to parent." Ooo. Wrong answer.

Draco, the person who later described the scene to me, happened to be standing in the doorway. To this day, he swears on his iPod that he was _sure_ Remus was going to attack Tonks. That is why he finally stepped fully into the room, clearing his throat to make his presence known and, hopefully, to distract my father from his obvious rage.

"Excuse me," He muttered, trying to draw the post-transformation werewolf's attention to himself, "Professor, sorry to bother you, but do you speak Dutch?"

With confusion quickly taking the place of anger, Remus turned to the blonde, shaking himself for a moment before inquiring, "What? No. Why?"

"Damn," Draco swore softly, "I didn't think so, but I was hoping... we still have those two Dutch kids here, Lisebet and Danel, and my pointing and gesturing isn't really cutting it anymore communication-wise. The girl stopped crying awhile ago and she's been yammering on about _something_, but I can't figure out what it is she wants."

Remus continued to look very confused, and Tonks, a hurt expression written all over her suddenly bland features, slowly slunk from the room. Breathing a sigh of relief over the fight being averted, Draco continued, "Well, I'd ask Leila to translate, since she speaks Dutch, but I don't want to wake her. She looks really exhausted. Still banged up, too. You might want to go see to her burns... and her arm as well."

My father immediately started, like he was reminded of the fact that I was in need of medical attention, and gasped, "Oh! Yes! Of course! I'll do that right away! Thank you!" He then began tearing about the kitchen as fast as his sore old body would allow, gathering all kinds of potions ingredients and throwing them into the first cauldron he came across.

"Uh, sir," Draco interrupted once more, waiting to be acknowledged by the harried werewolf before asking, "The Dutch girl? What should I do with her?"

"Oh, um..." Remus mused out loud as he finally got all his junk together and headed for the stairs, "I don't know... I guess... just bring her up to Leila's room. I'll have to wake Leila to heal her, and she can speak with the girl while I do that." Nodding, Draco responded, "Sure thing. We'll be up in a few minutes." Almost instantly, Remus shot up the stairs.

Shortly thereafter, my father entered my room to find me still face down and completely unconscious in my bed, not to mention filthy and snoring in a rather unflattering fashion. He winced upon seeing the raw, blackened burn that encompassed most of my upper back, and again upon noticing my splinted, slightly crooked right arm.

"Leila," He murmured, shaking me gently, "Leila, wake up, love." Definitely not prepared for consciousness, I groaned, coughed pitifully, and then pressed my face back into my pillow.

"Leila," He called again, already beginning to cut my black tank to up the back to fully get at my burn, wincing as he got a look at the dark bruises all over me. Higher up, some of the fabric was still fused to my skin, and the second he tried to remove it, I woke with a horrified scream.

"Shhh," He comforted, holding me down firmly with a hand at the base of my spine as I tried to get up. I was fighting wildly, nearly delirious, and had no idea what the hell was going on. "Relax," I heard Remus order, his voice soft and oddly comforting, "I'm going to fix your burn, but I have to clean it first. It's going to hurt. Can you just sit still, please?"

Starting to come around slowly, I whimpered, nodding and wiping away the few tears that managed to escape in my surprise. I felt dizzy and my chest was sore just from the strain of breathing, but I knew that Remus was going to take care of me so I pressed my face back into the pillow and gritted my teeth.

He was a lot gentler than Tonks had been, careful as possible while he methodically picked all the ash, dirt, and bits of wood out of the wound. It hurt, but not as much as I expected it to. Usually when I got injured in fights, I would have to find some random healer to fix me. With Remus it was different; he loved and cared about me, and that became blatantly obvious in just the way he treated me when I was hurt. It was good to have a dad.

The cleaning was over before I knew it, and then Remus expertly prepared a salve that felt cool when it contacted my skin. After only a few seconds of having it on, I stopped feeling any pain at all from the burn. With a wave of his wand, Remus closed up the wound, and then set to work using his legendary healing skill to completely mend my back. I was left with nothing but a pink, slightly shiny patch that would fade to normal in just a few days. Seriously, it was very good to have a dad, especially one with powers like that.

Next, he insisted I stick my face in another one of the foul-smelling potions used to treat smoke inhalation while he put yet another potion on my painful bruises. I had been sitting patiently and just breathing in the steam for only a few minutes when Draco came into the room, Lisebet and Danel following a few cautious steps behind. I smiled when I saw them, greeting hoarsely, "Hey, guys... er, _hallo_."

Lisebet forced a sad smile, but Danel immediately shrank away, hiding behind his older sister's legs. She scolded him softly, then looked back to me, her pale blue eyes red and puffy. The petite blond had obviously been crying.

"_Ik wilde je nog bedanken voor het redden van mijn broertje,_" She stated, still forcing a smile, "_Het was heel dapper van je om dat te doen._" (I just wanted to thank you for saving my brother. You were very brave to do that.)

"_Het was niets,_" I answered, barely able to keep my eyes open, "_Het spijt me dat jij en je familie hier mee te maken moesten hebben._" (It was nothing. I'm sorry you and your family were dragged into this.)

The girl nodded somberly, sniffling and taking a deep breath as Danel peered at me from behind her legs with those wide green eyes of his. He looked absolutely terrified.

After a few moments, the girl finally stated, "_Bedankt_..._ ik vroeg me afwat gaat er nu gebeuren? Ga je proberen om mijn vader te vinden?_" (Thanks... I was wondering... what happens now? Will you try to find my dad?)

Not really having an answer for that, I was slightly relieved when I suddenly whimpered in pain and buried my face into my pillow. Remus was taking care of my arm, and it hurt, but it gave me a minute or two to think.

What would we do? Their mother was dead, and it was pretty much our fault. Their father was kidnapped and probably being tortured at that very second. Could we really _not_ try to find him? Save him? If we didn't at least try, I'd never forgive myself. I had to find him. Otherwise, those two kids would be without both their parents instead of just one. Losing their mother was enough of a tragedy. I didn't want them to lose their father as well.

When I had finally breathed past the pain, I picked my head up, stating very shakily, "_Ik zal mijn best doen om hem te vinden. Ik kan niet beloven dat het lukt, maar ik zal het proberen. Ik wil hem graag naar je terug brengen._" (I'll try my best to find him. I can't promise that I will, but I'll try. I want to bring him back to you.)

The girl's eyes got glassy and wet, filling with tears before she bent down to hug me carefully. "_Dank je,_" (Thank you) She murmured, her voice breaking as she began to cry into my neck. I held her tight, oblivious to the pain and Remus politely insisting I sit still so he could continue to heal me. All that mattered was that this little girl had lost her mother and she needed to grieve. More than that, she needed me to bring her father home to her.

xxXxx

"No."

Unsurprisingly, that's what my plans were met with, cold, hard, final.

"Absolutely not."

Really, I expected the reaction, but that didn't mean I was going to accept it.

Glaring at Remus, I shot back, "There's still time to save him. I have to try."

He looked tired, but very stern, the dark circles under his eyes seeming to fade when his cheeks flushed with anger. "Leila Vega Kione," My dad scolded sharply, his tone absolutely demanding, "Don't. You. Dare."

"Someone has to go," I argued, standing my ground, remembering too late that my wrist was sore as I balled both my fists at my sides. It ached, but I continued unwaveringly, "Since I seem to be the only one available who's both competent and multi-lingual, it's got to be me."

"You're not entirely healed!" Remus fired back, his shoulders shaking visibly, "You can't march into a fight like this! It's suicide! The Aurors have been alerted to the kidnapping, and they're doing everything they can-"

"No offense to the Aurors," I snapped, gritting my teeth and trying not to let on that I was already getting winded, "But I've got far more skills and resources for this mission."

"You're not doing it!" He shouted, taking me slightly by surprise. I wasn't used to him being so... loud... forceful... authoritarian... I knew it was the moon affecting him. At any other time of the month, he probably would've tried to gently talk me out of my plan, carefully wielding that big old brain of his instead of just screaming.

As he turned and stomped out of the room, I heard him call over his shoulder, "Let the Aurors handle this. It's not your job to go charging into danger."

"No!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, fully aware that I was now addressing an empty room, but not really caring. With those super werewolf senses of his, I'm sure Remus could hear me no matter how much distance he was trying to put between us as I announced passionately, "It _shouldn't_ be my job, but it is! Running from war, hiding, pretending that the fight is someone else's problem, it isn't a solution! Head-in-the-sand mentality will just let this go on longer! If I don't fight, if we don't _all_ fight in every way we can, then it won't ever end! I know you used to believe that, Remus, because that's why Mom left you! And you know what? She was wrong to do it!"

I suddenly stopped, hardly believing I'd just said that, but the pause didn't last long at all. A feeling of insight came over me, of release as I continued loudly, "She didn't get that the battle belongs to the whole world, not just those willing to stand up and take a side! She should have stayed and fought with you no matter how scared she was! I love her, but she was wrong, and I'm never going to run like that! NEVER! Not after seeing how this can find anyone, anywhere, anytime! Safety can only come with peace, and peace isn't going to come without a fight! If the other side is going to bring the war into the homes of innocent bystanders, then it's my _job_ as a soldier to bring it right back at them, harder and stronger than they would've ever expected! If that man is still alive, I'll find him! Not _just_ because it's my job, but because the world doesn't need anymore fucking orphans!"

I was seriously pissed by that time. I worked myself into a frenzy, and I could just _feel_ the rage coursing through my veins, hot pulses that left me physically aching. I didn't like being so mad, I never have and never will, but I needed it. I needed to get angry. Anger can drive me, even when I'm exhausted and aching it can keep me going.

I had a plan, but I had to act fast. My tirade hadn't convinced Remus. Not at all. Sure, he agreed with everything I said, but I was still his daughter. He still loved me. He would still do anything to keep me from being hurt. Anything happens to include warding me back into the mansion. My gut was telling me that he was already on his way to do it. I had to hurry.

I sprinted to my room, grabbing a duffle and stuffing it full in under a minute. Knives, cash, wand, gone. I had gotten so good at that over the two years I'd been on my own. It was automatic.

With that done, I only needed one more thing: an accomplice. Normally, I wouldn't have bothered, but it was necessary. Remus was right; I wasn't fully healed. My arm and neck ached, as well as the fading bruises all over my torso, and my lungs were weak. I needed some muscle.

After quickly going over the mansion's other inhabitants, I arrived at only one possibility and arrived at his door shortly thereafter.

"Sirius!" I shouted, pounding on the thick wood, wincing, cursing, and then switching to use my non-injured arm, "Sirius! Open up!"

The door opened and I ended up pounding a fist against his bare chest, making him grunt before giving me a joking glare. "Oy," He said, rubbing at the sore spot with one hand and tugging his worn jeans a little higher up on his thin hips, "How dare you interrupt my late afternoon nap just to assault me! I should have you flogged!"

With a smirk and an eye roll, I shoved him into his room, ordering, "Later, pervo. Put a shirt on. We've got places to be."

"That's not funny," He countered, his face suddenly growing dark as he glared. I remained impassive, stating, "It wasn't meant to be. Put a shirt on. Now. I need your help."

Still obviously thinking I was screwing with him, the man spat, "You're being cruel. I can't leave. I'm a fugitive." With a heavy sigh, I rubbed away some of the throbbing headache that was beginning to collect at my temples, answering, "Ya, and so am I. There are ways of preventing you from being noticed. Come on. I _know_ you want to get out of here. How long has it been since you've seen the real world? Several years, I'll bet."

And then he wasn't so convinced I was joking, licking his lips as a downright _hungry_ expression crossed his face. "Now, please," I ordered, wanting to hurry so that Remus didn't have the time needed to ward me in.

"But..." He still held out, already grabbing a worn t-shirt off the floor and pulling it over his head, making his long, graying black hair pull slightly from the loose ponytail it was in, "How?"

"We, um, _walk out_," I answered. He rolled his eyes, countering, "I meant how are you going to keep me from being noticed?"

There must've been something in the water at Grimmauld Place making everyone inside so goddamn dumb. Seriously...

Muttering obscenities under my breath, I crossed the room in two strides, grabbing a dusty black motorcycle helmet off a shelf and then fitting it snugly over Sirius' head. I tapped it down firmly, and then snapped the dark tinted visor shut. "There," I stated happily, grabbing the stunned man by the elbow and dragging him from the room, "Problem solved. Now let's get going."

xxXxx

Just when we'd reached the sidewalk outside the house, I heard the door slam open behind us. Sirius was so busy gazing around and pacing excitedly that I don't think he even noticed, but I did. With my wand out, I turned and fired off a sticking charm before I'd even gotten a good look at whoever the person was. I was not going to let my mission be halted by anyone.

The person was Harry, and he was about three yards away, glaring at me while he tried in vain to move his thoroughly cemented feet. Rolling my eyes, I snapped, "Were you actually coming to _stop_ me?"

"No," He answered, still sounding very peeved and uncooperative as he yanked hard on his stuck legs. Quickly growing impatient with the boy, I demanded, "Well, then what? You obviously weren't going to volunteer to come with since you didn't even bring your wand! Not that I would've let you anyways, you useless turd..."

Scowling, he abandoned his efforts to get free, announcing, "I was thinking about what you said. Earlier, about what you thought of the war. I wanted to ask you a question."

"Fire away, four-eyes," I granted, folding my arms over my chest as I waited for whatever it was he wanted to ask. Harry began, "I was just thinking-"

"That must be new to you," I cut him off snappishly, "Be sure not to strain yourself."

Scowling heatedly, he continued, "I was thinking about what you said, that you're not one of the good guys. I think you're wrong. Only someone good would risk her life like you are to save someone she doesn't even know."

A slow, wicked smile came over my face. His naivety was both amusing and depressing all at the same time. I could remember a time when I would've thought the same thing...

"You can think whatever you want," I told the young man. He was almost nineteen, and, despite all that he'd been through, had yet to witness true atrocity, experience true loss and horror. "But you have no idea what I'm capable of," I continued, seizing Sirius by the elbow and making him sit still as I prepared to apparate us away, "I'm willing to do almost anything to get what I want, and, self-sacrificing nature or not, that makes me just as, if not _more_ dangerous and corrupted as anyone we're fighting."

We left with a deafening pop.

xxXxx

Our first stop was back in Holland, looking for leads at the place where it all started. We found nothing, just a smoldering crater and lots of cops and firefighters.

I suppose it wasn't a complete loss though. I posed as a distraught cousin, claimed the mother's body at the morgue, and made the funeral arrangements. It would take place in four days. I figured that was more than enough time to find the father, either alive or dead, and either way the kids deserved to see their mother buried.

The mother's name was Anneke de Klauw. She was 31.

The father's name was Kobus de Klauw. He was 34.

After finding no leads in Holland, our next stop was Bangkok, Thailand, where I paid a visit to a contact who had almost always managed to point me in the right direction. He was a Thai man named Aroon. He ran an underground sex club that was frequented by Death Eaters and Moros, so him and his girls were privy to some pretty useful secrets.

Sirius, who was still wearing the motorcycle helmet and bouncing around like an excited puppy who had just come out of his crate, and I entered through the back of the seedy place. After wading through a foul-smelling alley to find the right door, I gave the signal, four knocks, rattling the knob, and then three more knocks, and the thick slab of metal swung open almost instantly.

A skinny little girl was standing on the other side of the threshold, her eyes dark and hollow in her skull despite the thick orange eye shadow over them, her black hair falling loose all the way to the small of her back. She was barely wearing anything, a bright orange tube top and hot pants, and couldn't have been older than fourteen, if even that.

It turned my stomach every single time, every single goddamn time I was nodded into the dank, frigid back room and found myself wading through hoards of prepubescent girls, and even some boys, made up into garish whores. They were all thin, with huge, hollow eyes and sallow skin. You could see the pain and trauma in the faces. I wanted to save them all.

But I couldn't. Not then. They were serving a purpose. Bad people tell big secrets to their whores. I don't understand why, but that's how it is, and that's how I needed it to stay until all this was over.

Quickly, I made my way to Aroon's lushly-decorated, perfectly temperature-controlled office. He was on the phone, yelling in Thai at someone who I took to be his liquor supplier. The muscular, dark haired man waved us in, gesturing to two chairs in front of his desk as he continued to bitch at the supplier, occasionally taking the time to smooth out his brash violet suit, which I could see was made of the hide of a protected dragon species.

When he was _finally_ through with his phone call about ten minutes later, he turned and flashed me a brilliant white smile, greeting, "Hello, Leila. It has been too long."

"Never long enough, Aroon," Was my reply, genial even though I was forcing back hot bile in my throat. I fucking hated Aroon. He was scum, ridiculously full of himself, which was why he insisted on speaking English to me. I could speak Thai, but he liked to show off, when he wasn't too busy exploiting and using those kids like they were plow animals, of course...

"Well," He went on, getting straight to the point like he always did, just like the wonderful business man he always claimed to be, "What can I do for you today?"

Remaining impassive even as my nails dug into my palms, I announced, "I need information." Just like usual, I produced an envelope filled with cash and slid it across the desk, asking, "What have you heard about the arson and kidnapping in Holland yesterday?"

"Hmmm..." Aroon mused, flipping idly through the stack of bills, "Not much. One of my girls, Sunee, she complained about a regular who came a few hours ago. She said he smelled like smoke and his clothes were singed. He was rough with her, but that's what he paid for so I wasn't about to go up in arms about it."

Like I always ended up doing when I came to that place, I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood, counting to ten and forcing down my rage over this situation before I stated, "I'll need the man's name and to talk to Sunee."

He shrugged flippantly, pressing an intercom and saying, "Sunee, my office. Now." With that done, he leaned back in his chair again, folding his muscular arms behind his head as he told me, "His name is Antonin Dolohov. He's Russian, tall, brunette... if that helps."

"It does," I told him, getting impatient to get out of there, "Thanks."

"I know Dolohov," Sirius informed me softly, leaning across to whisper in my ear. He was still wearing the motorcycle helmet, so it was difficult to make out, but I did, and then stated, "Good."

A few moments later, a shy knock preceded a slight girl slinking shyly into the room. She had her hair cut short, tied with pink ribbons into pigtails. The make up on her right eye was caked and thick, though it did little to cover the heavy purple bruise that was developing there.

"Hello," she greeted kindly, hugging her bare, skinny midsection. She had bruises there, too, one of them shaped like the heel of boot. "Hi," I answered, getting up and offering her my hand, "My name is Leila."

"Sunee," The girl said, giving me a light handshake, her eyes on her frilly white socks and ridiculously short plaid school girl skirt. I wanted to cry, but tried to remain calm, smiling and gesturing her to take my seat as I said, "I just wanted to ask you about one of your... a man who came in here. The one who hit you."

She nodded, replying in slightly broken English, "Yes. His name is Antonin. He here this morning, all smudgy and smelly like smoke. He very angry with something, very rough."

That tight clenching feeling in my gut was quickly turning into the urge to run out and hurl. She couldn't have been older than twelve...

"Did he tell you anything about a man named Kobus?" I asked plainly, "A Dutch man he kidnapped?" She shook her head. I continued, "Did he mention where he lived? Where we could find him?"

"He has home in... St. Petersburg," The girl told me, reaching into her cropped collared shirt, "But he give this to me when he finished... I like the picture." She produced a wadded up scrap of paper, carefully smoothing it out before reluctantly handing to me.

I recognized was it was in an instant. Money. A fifty Rand note, to be more precise. It was red, with a lion head on it. It was South African currency, and exchanges to a little more than seven US dollars, a little less than four pounds. I had my next lead, and I also knew that Dolohov was cheap as well as sadistic and perverted. Being inside your mark's head a bit is always useful for tracking him down.

With a soft smile, I handed the bill back to Sunee, slipping her a bit more money out of sight of Aroon and stating, "It is a nice picture. Thank you. You've been a lot of help."

"He also..." She offered, smiling slightly as she felt the extra cash in her hand, "I hear him talking on telephone, placing bet. He say put one hundred pounds on the Cats, and that he walking to watch game between shifts."

After thinking over that tidbit for a few moments, a lightning bolt of inspiration struck me. I knew _exactly_ where Dolohov would be.

"Thank you," I told the girl, heartfelt and sincere and regretful that I couldn't do anything more to help her and the others, "Really. You've been wonderful." I had to go though. I had to bring Kobus home to his children. "Aroon," I said, laying another few bills on his desk as I motioned for Sirius to get up, "If Dolohov comes back or if you hear anything else, you know how to get in touch."

"Of course," He answered, smiling brightly, giving Sunee a proud look that I knew was only about the money she'd made him, "Good luck."

We had to walk through the cold, bare room full of half-bare kids to get out. They were all so small and young and _aged,_ silently watching me leave but pleading for help in every minute movement.

As soon as Sirius and I stepped into the fresh air, a wave of nausea hit me so hard that I ended up bolting straight for a trash can and emptying the contents of my stomach over the next several, rather unpleasant minutes. It was the same as every other time I'd gone in there, when I let myself rely on information that could only be gathered by under-aged sex slaves. The ends justify the means, I suppose, but that never changed the fact that it felt wrong, _vile_ to take advantage of them. I was just as bad as any one of their customers...

After I was done throwing up, standing and wiping my mouth on the wrap on my injured right wrist, I turned around to find Sirius staring at me strangely. I could tell he was staring even with the dark shade still down on his helmet, but we had a job to do. There would be plenty of time later for my guilt and moral dilemmas. Kobus was probably being tortured right at that moment.

"Let's go," I ordered, spinning on my heel and stomping towards a secure apparition point.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the movie version, this is where I would cue the dramatic music.

The Dutch translations have been corrected by a wonderful person named RebeccaRockChick.

I just read a study that said releasing thoughts about the things you read in the form of reviews prevents cancer. Just thought you might want to know.


	12. Part 12: Disobedience

Part 12 - Disobedience

The Cats are a South African rugby team based out of Johannesburg. Their home stadium is called Ellis Park. On that day, they happened to be playing a match against the Pretoria Bulls, so when Sunee told me she'd heard Antonin Dolohov place a bet on the Cats, as well as claim to be going to watch them play, I knew that was where we could find him. If we found him, we'd find Kobus de Klauw.

I'd been to Johannesburg before, and it's always pretty crowded but that afternoon was packed. The sweltering climate seemed to work in tandem with the swarming bodies, producing a crushing feel of being smothered on the hot, sweaty atmosphere. The air was stale and tepid despite the gale force winds whipping all around, the pavement seeming to burn the soles of my feet right through my thick hiking boots.

I cast glamour charms to disguise us, turning myself into a brunette with dark eyes and a button nose, and Sirius into a clean-shaven blonde with a weak chin. Then we snuck into the stadium and I began scanning the crowd of muggles for a wizard in the midst.

Dolohov wasn't hard to spot. Sirius recognized him from Azkaban. He'd been locked up with the man, who was one of the prisoners freed in the mass breakout a few years back.

The Russian had a midlevel seat, not too close to the field but close enough so that the players weren't ants to him. I chose a vantage point on the other side of the stadium and watched him through a pair of binoculars during the entire match. He was really into it, too, jumping on his chair and screaming in his own language, which sounded incredibly out of place amongst the native ones, as he watched the Cats get their butts handed to them by the Bulls. I got a real sick thrill out of the knowledge that he'd lost money on the game.

When it was over, Sirius and I followed him from the stadium, trailing a safe distance over the five blocks we walked. The sky was growing dark and the streets were crowded, but he wasn't difficult to keep an eye on. He kept a slow pace, and the furs he was wearing were quite ostentatious, especially since it was so hot out. He ducked into an upscale, hundred-story high rise, and we were right behind him.

I watched him get into an elevator by himself, and then I watched the dial go all the way up to the penthouse, stop, and return to the first floor. Wordlessly, Sirius and I got into the same elevator.

Like most places, we couldn't get up to the penthouse without a special key. We settled for the floor below, where I found an empty utility closet and began scanning the types of protection charms that were above us.

Quite a few were in place, but they were nothing I hadn't seen before. Child's play, really, especially to someone who's been dealing with far more complex ones since before she was even old enough to carry a wand. I defused just enough to allow Sirius and me to climb up through an air conditioning vent undetected, and that's where the real action began.

It was a nice apartment, plush and well-decorated, every creature comfort imaginable included in the spacious surroundings.

The grate we came to looked out over a black, silver, and green living room. Antonin Dolohov was seated on a black velvet couch, idly flipping channels on a huge big screen tv. He had his feet up on a low coffee table and was munching on an apple, absentmindedly flipping his messy brown hair away from his thick, Groucho eyebrows.

It didn't make sense. Dolohov was supposed to lead us to a torture chamber, not a yuppie dream home. The place didn't seem like one that would be holding a prisoner anywhere. Death Eaters in Moros share in common a fondness for luxury, and even the dumbest, most careless member of either group wouldn't risk getting blood on those expensive oriental rugs.

I was getting frustrated and angry, and I had to figure this out. The fact that it could've been a false lead, a whole day wasted, gave me a sickening sense of foreboding.

Turning to Sirius, I put up a quick silencing bubble before telling him critically, hoarsely, "We're going in, and I need to know you will blindly obey every order I give, no matter what it is." The man nodded solemnly, and then I was ready.

I cut the lights first, sending the room into a darkness that was offset only by soft neons of the city coming through the huge plate glass windows on every outside wall.

Dolohov leapt to his feet, wand in hand immediately as he shouted, "Who is there?" The racket he made as he swung blindly about and tripped over furniture in the dark was more than enough for me to kick out the grate and slip to the floor unnoticed.

Motioning for Sirius to stay put, I crept silently along until I was crouched behind the sofa, watching with vague amusement as Dolohov continued to flail stupidly. He walked right by my hiding place. I stuck my foot out and tripped him, knocking him to the expensive hardwood floor. Disoriented, the man didn't put up much of a fight when I punched him hard in the head. My still sore wrist screamed in pain, and the Russian was instantly out cold.

I turned the man on his back and bound him quickly and magically before locking down the rest of the apartment and waving Sirius down from the vent. "Watch him," I instructed shortly, slinking off to search the rest of the place. Dolohov had to be guarding something, and if it wasn't Kobus, then it could've been anything. I needed to know what.

I went through several more rooms, all just as richly decorated as the living room, but disappointingly uninhabited. There was a lot of stuff crammed into that apartment, but nothing I had come across so far would warrant even the most minimal security detail. I was just starting to get irritated when I came to the very last room.

It was a bedroom, dark like the rest of the place, as well as large and beautiful. The bed was a huge oak four-poster with a black and green canopy, the same colors on the lush comforters.

That's when I saw it: a lump in the middle; a person, lying completely still; a mass of flesh and high-thread-count cotton trembling in the shadows. Slow, repeating mechanical clicks and hisses were the only sounds to meet my ears. I flicked my wand and cast the room into light.

And fucking gasped. Never in a million years did I expect what I found...

In Zurich, my mom and I were attacked. We fell into a trap and we were both taken by the Moros. After being clubbed over the back of the head, I woke up tied to a chair.

By the time I woke, they already had my mother tied up naked on the floor. They were already dragging her around by her hair, Crucioing her, twenty or so ruthlessly beating her with bats. Most of her teeth had been knocked out. Her right ankle was contorted grotesquely out to the side. Her face was a butchered mass of gashes and bruises and blood. She was sobbing and choking on her own blood.

I screamed, realizing that I'd been gagged and bound as I struggled to go to her. In my frenzy, I knocked over the chair I was tied to, falling onto my side and crying out in pain as my elbow got crushed against the floor. No one bothered to pick me up at first. No one even noticed, and it was the most horrible feeling in the world, being helpless, invisible while everything I loved was broken before my eyes.

They'd just cut off her left pinky toe when I was finally lifted back upright. He was almost gentle as he placed the chair, moving it a few steps closer and lightly petting the top of my head.

I was crying so hard I could barely breathe, hiccupping and gasping and struggling, and then I saw his face.

Not really his face, I suppose. All the Moros wear black bandanas over their mouths and noses. It was his eyes I saw, one blue and one brown. They were unmistakable.

"Shhh, love," He soothed in a soft British accent, wiping away a tear with his thick, stubby thumb. From the wrinkles at the corners of his unusual eyes, I could tell he was smiling as he went on, "You just sit tight and watch the show."

I screamed again, sobbing and pleading even though the gag made me incomprehensible. Nothing I said would've mattered anyways. Not to those sadistic animals.

Slowly, the man stepped forward. By that time, my mom was face down on the ground and one of the others was sodomizing her as she squealed and shrieked in pain. I could see blood on the attacker's pale little cock every time he withdrew and slammed it back in. Another Moro Crucioed her, and the one fucking her told him to do it again, laughed in French how tight she got when she was seizing in unimaginable pain.

The blue-eye-brown-eye man knelt down beside my panting, choking, sobbing mother, winking at me over his shoulder as he produced a sharp, gleaming knife from his pocket. "Now that we have you attention," He chuckled, his voice deep and amused as he rested the point on of the blade on her cheek and methodically sliced downwards, "We'd like to ask you a few questions on the whereabouts of Remus Lupin..."

Blue-eye-brown-eye man's name was Paxton Brayshaw, and he was the first Moro I went after.

If I hadn't been the one who disfigured him so badly, I would never have recognized the stocky blonde. But I remembered. I remembered making every swollen, scarred-over gash on his twisted face and neck and chest and arms. I remembered being near tears the entire time I was torturing and, I thought, killing him. I remembered how he screamed. I remembered all the blood. I remembered slowly peeling off his eyelids with a pair of pliers. I remembered throwing him out the window of an apartment much like the one we were in then.

"I remember you," I announced, stalking closer to the bed, like a predator circling wounded prey, "I thought I killed you." My mom had been at his mercy and so had I, and now he was at mine and it was perfect.

He was so fucking terrified and so fucking ugly. Those unusual eyes were still there, but now they were bloodshot and shriveled and surrounded by raw scar tissue that was caked with dried tears and mucous he could no longer control. They hadn't been able to fix his eyelids, and, if the breathing machine hooked to his throat and his lack of movement were any indication, they hadn't been able to fix any of the rest of him either.

"How've you been, Pax?" I taunted dryly, quite peeved that he was still alive. I got no answer, so, picking up one of his atrophied arms and letting it flop limply back to the bed, I continued, "Paralyzed in that fall, huh?"

Still no answer, and I smirked wickedly, mocking, "I'd say blink once for yes and twice for no, but that's a bit of a problem for you, isn't it?"

"Please," He whimpered, his voice small and weak and raspy, "I'm sorry. Please, don't-" He couldn't even finish, cutting himself off to sob convulsively. He was scared. Good. He fucking should be.

I laughed as I dragged a chair over to his bedside, sitting and daintily crossing my bare legs as I mused, "I think I've got this figured out now."

Toying with some of the buttons on his breathing machine, I went on, "There was at least one more Death Eater still at the fire when I showed up. He saw me kill his little friend, and he recognized who I was, and he reported it to Voldie. You found out about it and freaked, thinking I was going after his followers again, that I'd come finish the job I started on you. You demanded a guard and they sent Dolohov. They took him off the Dutchman's detail to give to you." I paused to smirk, asking, "How am I doing so far, Pax?"

He made no answer, aside from a frightened tremble in what was left of the muscles in his sliced up cheeks. Laughing, I bent close to the only remaining half of his right ear and whispered, "But I was never looking for you. I thought you were dead. Now that I know otherwise it's an entirely different story, but, sadly, I don't have time to deal with you properly at the moment. I'm looking for the kidnapped Dutchman and I want to find him alive. I followed Dolohov because I thought that idiot would lead me to him. Instead he led me right to you, and you don't know anything about it. You can't leave this bed."

I chuckled and slowed down the breathing machine's pace, making the man attached to it start to gasp and twitch as those mismatched eyes bulged in his disfigured skull. It was probably painful, but wouldn't kill him. "I'll be back," I said, my voice a gravely murmur as the invalid fought to breathe, "You can be sure of that. I thought you were the first to die, and since you aren't that means you're the last Moro. You deserve to suffer for what you did to my mom, so I'll let you live for now since it's so obvious you're suffering every minute of every day. When the mood strikes me, I'll come for you. And when I do, it's going to _hurt_."

I got back to my feet. I turned off the light. I left him there with the knowledge that I'd find him someday, no matter where he ran, and I was once again going to make him regret ever being born.

Back in the living room, in the dark, I could see that Dolohov was still unconscious on the floor and Sirius was still standing over him.

"What took you so long?" The tall man asked worriedly as he flicked black and gray hair out of his eyes, seeming like he'd been only a few minutes away from disobeying my direct order and coming to find me.

"Nothing important," I answered flippantly, trying not to betray that I was a little bit shaken by coming across Brayshaw as I went on, "Remember, you do whatever I tell you to. No questioning, no matter what."

He nodded blankly, stating, "Sure, but... what are you going to do?"

Pointing my wand at Dolohov, I announced, "Whatever I have to." I spelled a jet of cold water right into the Russian's face, waking him in an instant. He tried to sit up, gasping and spluttering and peering through blackness of his surroundings as he struggled with his bonds.

I didn't waste any time before demanding, "Where is Kobus de Klauw?"

"Vat?" He grunted turning to look in the direction my voice came from, though I'm fairly sure he couldn't see my face, "Who? Who are you? Vat are you doing here? Untie me!"

Lightning quick, I kicked him hard in the head, sending him sprawling back onto the floor as he grunted in pain. Before he could pull himself up again, I dug the heel of my boot into his temple, pinning him as I reached down, grabbed the middle finger on his left hand, and broke it with a hideous snap.

He screamed, shrieking and flopping about as he cursed furiously in Russian. I didn't have time for games, asking more forcefully, "Where is Kobus de Klauw?"

"I do not know vat you are talking abou- AHHHH!" Before he could finish the lie, I reached down and broke another digit on his left hand. His thumb that time, I think.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked him, my voice flat and unaffected. Biting back sobs, the man shook his head, and I announced, "My name is Leila Kione."

He drew in a sharp breath, shuddering violently beneath my boot. I smirked, teasing, "So you've heard of me. Then you know that it wouldn't bother me in the least to just-" I greatly increased the amount of pressure my foot was putting on his temple, "squash you like the worthless, mindless insect you are." This was just business for me. I wasn't enjoying it, not like I would have if it had been Brayshaw I was torturing. Dolohov was a Death Eater and I hated him, but it wasn't quite as personal. That's probably a good thing for him since it meant it was far easier to control my temper.

"I know nothing!" He yelped, his face contorted in pain as he squirmed beneath me, "I svear to god! I do not know vat you are talking about! Please!"

Keep in mind that Death Eaters and Moros aren't really sniveling cowards; I'm just that scary.

"Tsk, tsk," I mocked, removing my foot and beginning to pace around him in circles, "I don't like liars, Comrade Dolohov. In fact, the only thing I hate worse than liars are followers of the Dark Lord. That's two strikes against you already. Oh, no, wait, _three_." I bent down close to his ear, hissing, "I also hate _pedophiles_."

His dark eyes went wide, mouth opening and closing in shock and horror. I had him so pegged.

"One more time before things start to get nasty," I stated plainly, pausing to stand near his head, "Where is Kobus de Klauw?"

"I do not know this man!" Dolohov insisted once more, breathing hard, very close to panicking as he realized there was no way out for him. "Fine then," I announced, turning towards Sirius, "Have it your way. Black, be a dear and please escort our friend out onto the balcony in the least gentle way possible."

"With pleasure," The tall man growled, a smirk twisting his features and a slightly wild look coming into his eyes as he seized Dolohov by the hair. He then dragged the Russian kicking and screaming across the floor of the apartment to a small balcony that overlooked the busy street below.

After a quick silencing bubble to keep Dolohov's cowardly shrieks from drawing any unwanted attention, I turned to instruct Sirius, "Go ahead and dangle this idiot out there by his ankle. Let's see if he's more willing to talk when the ground is a hundred stories down."

"NO! PLEASE! AH!" Dolohov squealed, futilely trying to fight as Sirius effortlessly held him out over the ledge at arm's length.

"I'd try not to squirm too much if I were you," I announced, smirking cruelly as the high winds whipped long lengths of blonde hair hard against my face, "After all, Sirius here may be strong, but his arms aren't what they used to be thanks to that stint in Azkaban and the interdimensional void. Your people were responsible for both of those, right, Antonin? Well, gee, Sirius might be holding a grudge. You'd better answer my questions quick before he has a chance to go about remembering that."

Sobbing like a baby, his arms still firmly tied behind his back, the man stilled, whimpering and runny as his face flushed violet from all the blood rushing to it.

"Last chance," I went on, quickly hoisting myself up onto the concrete railing, straddling it in a way that made Sirius glare at me and have to bite back godfatherly concerns for my safety. I ignored the concern, demanding darkly, "Where is Kobus de Klauw?"

"J-Jan Mayen Island," Dolohov blubbered, shutting his eyes from the dizzying sight of the bustling street far below him, "The Loran-C station."

That was a lot easier than I expect it to be, and I grinned as I stated condescendingly, "Thank you. Now, was that _really_ so hard?" Dolohov made an attempt at some kind of sniveling reply, but, before he could get it to come out coherently, I turned to Sirius and instructed coldly, "Drop him."

"What?" Sirius gaped, utterly bewildered by my order. Annoyed at not having been blindly and instantly obeyed, as per our agreement, I repeated slowly, "Drop. Him."

Struggling to keep hold of Dolohov as he cried and thrashed and just freaked the fuck out, Sirius argued, "But he told you what you wanted to know. Shouldn't we turn him in to the Aurors?"

"Ya," I responded sarcastically, rolling my eyes, "Because they did such a bang-up job of keeping him behind bars the first time." With a very pointed look, I tried to communicate that my decision was not at all up for debate. Unfortunately, Sirius didn't quite get it, stating forcefully, "I am not dropping a man off a building."

Sighing with frustration as my anger bubbled close to the surface, I responded, "Fine. Just put him down then."

Seeming relieved that he'd made me see sense, Sirius did just that. However, as soon as Dolohov was back on his feet, I jumped down from the railing, seized him by the collar, and hurled him over the edge of the balcony. He screamed on the way down, long and fading until a loud crash and squeal of tires could be heard.

"Go home," I spat at Sirius, rubbing away a throbbing pain in my right wrist as the tall man gaped between me and the edge of the balcony, "I have no use for you if you're not going to do what I tell you to."

As he followed me back into the dark apartment, I heard him stutter, "I- I can't go back."

"And why not?" I countered, already hoisting myself up into the air vent as I prepared to make a quick escape. "Because," Sirius answered blankly, "I'm not ready to go back yet, Moony will kill me if I show up without you, and I don't have a wand."

I turned to peer down at him, into his worn, open face and light gray eyes. He looked so sad, not just at the prospect of having to go home, but about what I had just done. "I didn't tell you to do it just for kicks," I growled, my eyes narrowing, "Taking useless prisoners and leaving witnesses are just about the two _stupidest_ things you could possibly do. I realize everyone thinks I'm crazy and imbalanced, but that's just a fact. If I let you come, you have to trust that I know what I'm doing. You have to really _mean it_ when you promise you're willing to listen to anything I say."

For a few long moments, he just stared up at me, thinking hard. Finally, he agreed, "Ok. I'm sorry. I trust you and I promise."

"Good," I replied, turning and disappearing in the vent, trusting that Sirius would follow, "Now let's get out of here. If I'm remembering correctly, we have a rather difficult trip ahead of us."

xxXxx

Jan Mayen is a small Norwegian island located in the Arctic Ocean. It's north of Iceland, east of Greenland, and west of Norway's mainland.

Depending on the season, one can expect to find somewhere between fourteen to twenty-eight residents working either for the Royal Norwegian Defense Force or the Norwegian Meteorological Institute. With little land area and no exploitable natural resources, the only use for the tiny island is as a location for radio and weather stations.

It has no ports or harbors, and only one unpaved airstrip, where the Royal Norwegian Air Force flies staff in and out only eight times a year using C-130 Hercules military transport planes. In other words, it is nearly impossible to get onto the island by traditional means and not have everyone know you're coming.

That is how Sirius and I found ourselves making the five-hundred kilometer crossing from Greenland in the middle of the night in a small, leaky motorboat. Apparently not very fond of boat rides, Sirius spent most of the six hour journey getting seasick over the side while I steered through the dark, shivering and soaked as cutting winds and frigid waves assaulted our open craft. It was miserable, but the only way I could think of to get to the island immediately and unnoticed. Otherwise, we would've needed to seek clearance from the Norwegian government, as well as wait another few weeks for the scheduled transport. We didn't have that kind of time.

The whole crossing was spent in a rather uneasy silence. Like I said, Sirius was pretty seasick, but it was more than that. I could tell that he just didn't know what to say to me anymore, not after he'd seen what I was capable of. The way he reacted unnerved me. Would other people react the same if they saw me in action? Would they hate me? Would Charlie hate me?...

When we finally sighted Jan Mayen, I put cloaking and silencing charms over us so no one would see us coming. Then it was just a matter of finding a place where we could actually get from the boat to land. Since most of the coast is cliffs, it was difficult, but we did manage it, hiding the boat in a small seaside cave before clamoring up a large rock face.

While Sirius was kissing and borderline dry humping the dry land, I was busy making him a portkey out of a large volcanic stone. The no wand thing had begun to trouble me, so I made him promise that he would use the portkey to take him back to Grimmauld if he got in any trouble. He only agreed because I threatened to send him home at that moment if he didn't.

Satisfied that I wasn't about to march him in without at least a plan of escape, I let Sirius rest for a bit while I went over my map and tried to plan our attack. The crossing from Greenland is half as long as the one from Norway. However, it put us at the wrong side of the island. The Loran-C Station is on the east side, and we were on the west. But I didn't see that as too big of an obstacle. The island is small and it would only be about a five kilometer hike to reach our intended destination. I scoped out a few places in the mountains surrounding the cluster of structures marked on the map that we would be able to properly observe the situation from, and then I was ready.

I woke Sirius and we set off. I spent the entire hike having to listen to him whine about how ridiculously long and steep it was, and how he was getting feasted on by insects who _must_ be in cahoots with the Dark Lord and could I please _Avada Kedavra_ them for him? Not to mention a near constant chorus of "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

Ugh.

About an hour later, I was slowly crawling towards the edge of a rocky outcrop, bringing out my trusted old omnioculars in order to get a look at that station. It was a few small, gray buildings, the largest of which had a tall, cable-stayed steel truss mast sticking out the top of it. Such equipment is used for sending long wave radio transmissions. Since Loran stations are used specifically for LOng RAnge Navigation, Loran-C denoting low frequency transmission, that definitely fit.

The Loran system is outdated. Most countries rely a lot more heavily on GPS, which was good news because Norway was apparently trying to become one of those countries. Of the fourteen to twenty-eight people I expected, I only saw eleven for the entire day I spent surveilling the scene. None of them were wizards either. I ran them all through a built in facial recognition program a friend of mine from South Korea have given me to test the year before. They were all just muggles, and things were starting to not add up again. It was just so random.

What would Death Eaters be doing holding a prisoner at a Norwegian Loran-C station?

I waited for nightfall to go in, stealthy and silent as Sirius followed behind me. The buildings had little security, and we didn't run into anyone while we were searching them. We didn't find Kobus either.

Frustrated, I pulled Sirius into an empty control room so we could speak. "What do you think?" He asked me, looking slightly fascinated by all the buttons and dials and blinking lights on the panels.

"Not sure," I answered thoughtfully, "We have to be missing something... secret rooms, maybe? An underground level?"

With a shrug, Sirius responded, "Could be. But how would they be getting past all the muggles?"

"I don't know," I moaned, beginning to get discouraged, bashing my forehead lightly against the wall.

From a small window in the door, I saw a light in the hallway come on and immediately tensed, seizing Sirius by the arm and pulling him to hide underneath a desk. Seconds after finally getting him to stop fidgeting in the cramped space, the door opened and the lights in the room came on. I held my breath.

I saw three sets of feet enter, their owners conversing quietly Norwegian.

All three of the people were men, and one was telling a rather dirty joke as the other two laughed and fiddled with a locked cupboard on the floor. When it opened, they pulled out the completely unmoving body of Kobus de Klauw. Despite the bruises and look of pure terror on his frozen face, I recognized the man immediately from the pictures I'd seen at his house as it burned. He was blonde, with wide-open pale blue eyes. He looked a lot like Lisebet.

Not bothering to reanimate him or really even acknowledge him, the Norwegians continued to joke as they picked the Dutchman up by the armpits and ankles, and carried him from the room. They even remembered to turn the light off.

With just one significant glance at Sirius' shadowed face, the both of us crept quietly out from under the desk and started after the men.

We followed them at a distance, but close enough for me to see that they were three of the station workers I had previously identified as muggles. More disturbing was the fact that I heard one of them remark, "_Forbanner, disse kondensatorer er tung! Det er en million i denne dum eske!_" (Damn, these capacitors are heavy! There has to be a million in this stupid box!)

They had no idea that they were carrying a frozen human being. Shit. Someone had cloaked the body against muggles; they looked at it and saw a box of radio parts.

But it still wasn't making sense. How did the Death Eaters get Kobus onto the island in the first place? And why? What purpose could there possibly be for concealing a hostage inside a muggle radio station, and then having muggles deliver him back to you? What kind of weird, convoluted plan was this?

I decided that finding the wizard or wizards hiding in the midst of these muggles was important enough to just allow the three men to lead me to them. I mean, there was a little greater risk to Kobus' life, but I wouldn't feel good leaving the muggles stranded on an island with a bunch of psychotic Death Eaters. Whoever it was, was already taking advantage of them.

So we continued to trail in silence, following them out of the building and into the bright, moonlit night. We walked for probably about fifteen minutes until we came to the edge of a tall cliff that overlooked the frigid ocean. I didn't understand what they were doing, and when I finally figured it out, it was already too late to stop them.

They tossed the body over the side of cliff, all immediately growing blank and retreating back to the building like zombies. They didn't seem to know what they'd just done. They didn't even notice when I ran past them, shoving between them and searching frantically over the cliff for any sign of the falling body. If he had still been falling, I could've cast a spell and stopped him, brought him back up. But I didn't see anything; he was already in the water.

I didn't have very much time to think before I was suddenly taking a few steps backwards and then taking a running start towards the edge. I jumped off the cliff and freefell at least hundred feet to the ocean.

It was a stupid move that could've gotten me killed. If the cliff face hadn't been sheer or if the water hadn't been deep and free of rocks, then I wouldn't have survived.

But, as luck had it, the cliff face was sheer and the water was more than deep enough for me to avoid getting myself splattered. The water was _damn_ cold and, falling from the height I did, felt like solid concrete when I hit. It was only because I was experienced enough to know to enter feet first and to point my toes in order to cut the surface that I avoided getting knocked unconscious.

When I came back up, choking for breath and aching all over, I discovered that the waves were huge, rough and white capped and hitting me in the face as I searched frantically for any sign of a human body bobbing along on the surface. I could vaguely hear Sirius screaming over the wind and water, yelling how stupid I was and, for the love of Merlin, to please fucking answer him! I sent up a big white flare to show that I was alright and also to casting as much light as I could manage to search by. I was already shivering and getting a headache, but it wasn't long before I realized that Kobus was not above the water. And that meant he had to be below it.

Depending on the hanging flare to penetrate down far enough for me to be able to see by, I took a deep breath and went under the pounding waves.

It was so peaceful below the water, calm and quiet, so much so that I came to realize just how loud and chaotic the surface had been. I spotted Kobus about twenty feet down and closer to the island, disappearing very slowly into the dark depths, his pale face still frozen in a silent, twisted scream of agony.

I kicked down with all my might. I've always been a strong swimmer, but Kobus was nearly at thirty feet when I finally reached him and my lungs _burned_ with exertion. The water had gotten colder and colder the further down I went, and I was shivering, my limbs numb, my chest unbearably tight. My head throbbed.

He was heavy; it was difficult to grab him and keep from sinking anymore as I tried to get us both back up to the surface. I needed both hands, so I had to stash my wand in my pocket. I couldn't use it on him because I had no idea what had been done, why he was frozen. If I did something wrong, it could've killed him, so I had to settle for hauling him up by my own power.

The progress was slow and my light was dying, the calm growing sinister and unnerving as the water around me turned into frigid ink. My eyes were bulging in my skull and I was running on pure will, my legs kicking frantically, panicked that I needed to have reached oxygen at least half a minute ago. I'd just suffered smoke inhalation and countless other injuries that I wasn't fully healed from; I could not handle pulling a probably two-hundred pound Dutchman out of the Arctic Ocean. The rational part of my brain screamed at me to let him go and save myself.

But that wasn't an option, and, just as I thought I was going to drown, I broke the surface of the water with a gigantic, starving breath.

I could still hear Sirius shouting for me as I coughed and choked, more waves hitting me in the face while I dragged Kobus' leaden, inconveniently-posed form closer to the island. I wasn't strong enough to hold the both of us above water for very much longer and I needed my wand, but it was still stashed safely in my pocket and I didn't really have a free hand to grab it with. I needed something solid to hold onto before I got pulled under by the dead weight I was carrying, and the water surging over my head, and the cold sapping all the energy from my already exhausted body.

My light was completely dead by the time I finally found a rock to cling to, the jagged, briny, barnacle-encrusted outcropping barely even poking out of the water. It would do though, and shredding my arm and side on the foul-smelling surface of it was a small price to pay because I could finally rest and breathe.

"SIRIUS!" I screamed, my voice hoarse but nonetheless loud enough to be heard. "LEILA!" He shrieked back, sounding both relieved and out of his mind with worry, "WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? DO YOU NEED ME?"

"NO!" I fired back, finally managing to wriggle my wand out of my pocket and grip it tightly in my uninjured left hand, keeping a hold on Kobus with great difficulty. I was hoping that I would be able to apparate with that hand, despite the fact that it was the wrong one for me, but I was counting on necessity to see to that. "I'M FINE!" I yelled up at Sirius, coughing seawater out of my mouth and wincing as the barnacles sliced into my right arm and side like a cheese grater, "I HAVE KOBUS AND I'M GOING TO APPARATE BACK! TAKE THE PORTKEY! I'LL MEET YOU THERE!"

"ARE YOU SURE?" He called, sounding uncertain. I wasn't, answering immediately, "YES, GODDAMNIT! WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE BLIND OBEDIENCE I WAS PROMISED? I AM NEVER TAKING YOU ON A MISSION AGAIN, BLACK! YOU ARE THE WORST SIDEKICK EVER!"

Sounding highly offended, he screamed, "OY! I'M NOT A SIDEKICK! I'M THE MUSCLE, REMEMBER?" From the tone of his voice, I just instinctively _knew_ that he was proudly flexing his biceps.

"WELL YOU'VE BEEN DEMOTED!" I raged back, growing more impatient, annoyed, and exhausted by the second, "NOW JUST TAKE THE FUCKING PORTKEY, YOU STUPID FUCKING FUCKHEAD!" In reply, I heard Sirius shout, "FINE! JEEZ!"

Satisfied, I held on tight to Kobus's frozen body, concentrated hard, and managed to apparate us both away with an odd, wet POP.

xxXxx

I landed on the sidewalk in front of Grimmauld Place in the middle of the night. Kobus' body immediately fell on top of mine, knocking me to the ground. Sore, freezing, and aching all over, it took me awhile to finally get him off.

And then I panicked when looked around the dark street and realized that Sirius still hadn't shown up. A million worst case scenarios ran through my mind. He'd been captured. He'd been killed. I spelled the portkey wrong. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. It was all my fault!

But all those fears subsided when the AWOL animagus in question was suddenly dropped out of the sky and directly on top of me. "Ow," I groaned, sprawled on my back underneath the second ridiculously heavy body of the night. Scowling into Sirius' concerned face, I scolded, "Nice of you to finally show up, now _get the fuck off of me_."

"Sorry," He muttered, leaping to his feet and then help me to mine. With a weak grin, he added, "But you are the one who charmed the portkey, so you really have no one to blame but yourself." I opened my mouth to argue, but then realized he was right and grudgingly had to shut it again, settling for glaring hotly at him in the thin light of the streetlamps.

"I suppose we should go inside then," Sirius sighed, obviously not thrilled about having to return home after the first and only outing he'd been allowed on in over a year. "Ya," I agreed, clinically examining jagged scratches on my right arm that went all the way from my hand to my armpit to the bottom of my ribs, "But no worries. I'll sneak you out again sometime."

A big, affectionate smile came over Sirius' face and he moved to pick up Kobus' body as he remarked, "You're assuming that my good friend Moony will ever let _you_ out of the house again..."

xxXxx

Luckily, none of the mansion's residents were awake, and Sirius and I managed to slip in completely unnoticed. He hauled Kobus' still frozen form onto the kitchen table while I hurriedly set about trying to determine what had been done to make him stuck like that.

He seemed petrified, but petrification is fairly rare. The only thing I knew of that would do it was seeing the reflection of a basilisk's eyes. It didn't seem likely to me that Kobus had been shown such a sight in the course of his torture, but eventually my scans did read that he was suffering from petrification. Odd...

Still shivering in my wet, frigid clothing, I turned to Sirius and stated, "I can't do anything for him. We're going to have to wake Remus."

"Uh," He responded, eyes growing large in his skull, "What do you mean _we_, little girl? This was your adventure." I narrowed my eyes, hissing, "You came quite willing."

Beginning to look slightly fearful, Sirius pleaded, "But Moony's gonna kill me! He won't kill you! You're his kid!"

"No, he'll just ward me back in here," I argued pointedly, "You said so yourself. It's probably wise to keep some distance between us until he's calmed down a bit, and being the one to wake him will interfere with that plan."

Sirius and I just stared for a few moments, and then he suggested, "Rock, paper, scissors for who goes to wake the scary were-Moony?" Smirking, I held up a balled fist and agreed, "You're on... one, two, three..."

I threw rock. Sirius threw scissors, then sworn, gave me sad puppy-dog eyes, and whined, "Two out of three?"

"Not a chance," I laughed evilly, enjoying my victory, "Now move it." Grumbling under his breath about "goddamn cheeky, cheating godchildren," he headed for the stairs with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

While he was gone, I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and had already shoved half of it into my mouth at once when I heard yelling from upstairs. The yelling was followed by what could only have been the sounds of one person running frantically while another, far angrier person chased after him and shot off a series of nasty curses... definitely not a good sign...

Sirius tumbled back into the kitchen a few minutes later, significantly singed, and Remus was right behind him. My dad looked pretty mad, but he calmed down a great bit upon seeing me, sighing deeply as he crossed the room to wrap me in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're alright," He murmured hotly, squeezing me hard enough to make some of my old injuries sting a bit. It felt good though, so I didn't bother pulling away. I even hugged him back...

And then he pulled away and smacked me upside the head, shouting, "What did I tell you?"

"To let the Aurors handle it," I responded snappishly, already sore and annoyed at getting smacked, however lightly, "And yet I didn't see even one Auror during the entire mission, and especially not when this man was thrown over a cliff! Excuse me for saving his life!"

Remus paled, which was drastic since he's always fairly pale, his gold eyes growing large in his head as he gasped, "You jumped off a cliff, didn't you?" Finally getting around to noticing that I was still soaked and shivering, and my right arm and side were all bloody, he muttered a shell-shocked, "Dear lord, you jumped off a cliff... my daughter jumped off a cliff..."

"It wasn't the first one," I grumbled crossly, grumpy and acting a like a bit of a brat, "Not even the biggest." Sirius giggled into his hand, winking as he loudly proclaimed, "Should've seen her, Moony! She just ran and leapt straight off the edge! It had to have been over a hundred foot drop to the ocean, which was fucking _freezing_! Not to mention all-" He swung his arms about in the air like big crashing waves, trying to communicate something he couldn't think of a word for, something which he eventually gave up on making clear to us, shrugging as he continued, "Anyways, I damn near had a heart attack!"

"I think I might be having one right now..." Remus muttered, clutching his chest and slowly sinking into a chair at the table. Rolling my eyes, I responded, "You are not!" I thought he was screwing with me. I thought he was being theatrical and trying to make me feel guilty. I thought he would drop the act in two seconds, stand up, smack me upside the head again, and scream to his perfectly healthy heart's content.

Only he didn't. Horrorstruck, I rushed over to his side, checking his erratic pulse as I whimpered, "Are you?"

"I-I don't know," He panted, his scarred face contorted in pain as he held his hand tight against his heart, "Just... go get help..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That's all for now peoples. Remember, reviews equal love.


	13. Part 13: Monsters Under the Bed

Part 13 - Monsters Under the Bed

On the bright, cloudless morning of August 6th, 1999, I escorted the newly un-petrified Kobus de Klauw and his two small children to the funeral of their wife and mother.

It was a nice day, and a nice service, but there was nothing at all nice about how Anneke de Klauw died. She was young, and healthy, and, from the way the other de Klauw's talked about her, she was a beautiful human being.

Her death was completely unfair, an act of random violence in a brutal war that was beginning to slowly seep into the homes of innocent bystanders. Anneke was a teacher; she did not deserve to be slaughtered in the kitchen of the happy home she and Kobus saved for years to be able to give their children. The only consolation was that she probably hadn't suffered.

I was keeping my distance, about fifty feet away on the top of a grassy hill in the old cemetery, letting the family grieve privately over her grave for as long as they wanted. After that day, they would be leaving their life iin Holland behind; they would be taking a portkey to an Order safe house in Suriname, a Dutch-speaking country in South America. They would have to start over there, new jobs, names, friends... everything, but hopefully they would be well under the Dark Lord's radar and would remain well protected until the war came to an end. I hoped with everything in me that that time would come soon.

"Leila?" I heard from behind me, turning to find Lisebet and Danel, the blonde preteen girl dragging her dark-haired little brother by the arm as he fought furiously to get away.

I looked past them and saw Kobus still alone by his wife's grave, on his knees and speaking softly as he fiddled with the flowers laid on top of it.

"_Ja?_" (Yes?) I asked, smiling weakly at the pair, trying not to be depressed when Danel whimpered and shrunk away to hide behind his sister. He was still terrified of me, and I didn't blame him. He'd seen me murder another human being, and, despite that it was self-defense and I saved both our lives, he was five-years-old and didn't understand enough to see me as anything but scary.

"Thank you for saving my father," Lisebet stated, looking proud of herself for mastering the phrase. Draco had taught her a bit of English while I was out recovering her dad, and she'd also taught him a bit of Dutch. It was way sweet the way they bonded.

"You're welcome," I answered, a little sad that I'd probably never see the spunky twelve-year-old girl again, "_Je Engels word steeds beter._" (Your English is getting very good).

Snickering half-heartedly, she replied, "_Niet echt, maar toch bedankt._" (Not really, but thanks). For a few moments, we just shared weak, unconvincing smiles.

And then Danel finally got his arm lose from the tight hold his sister had on it, crying as he ran back to the grave and threw himself into his father's embrace. Lisebet sighed as she watched him go, turning back to me and apologizing, "_Het spijt me dat hij zo doet. Hij begrijpt niet waarom je het hebt gedaan. Maar ik weet zeker dat hij het ooit op een dag zal begrijpen, en dan zal hij ook niet meer bang zijn._" (I'm sorry about him. He doesn't understand why you did what you did. I'm sure he will someday, and then he'll stop being afraid).

My blood suddenly ran cold. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself grabbing Lisebet by the shoulders, giving her a stern look as I commanded, "_Nee. Je moet me beloven dat je dat niet zal laten gebeuren. Je moet me beloven dat je broertje altijd bang zal blijven voor mensen zoals ik. Hij moet geweld haten, en oorlog, en dood, en soldaten terwijl het niet uitmaakt aan welke kant ze vechten. Dat is de enige manier waarop we het ooit kunnen stoppen..._" (No. You have to promise you won't let that happen. You have to promise to make sure your brother is always afraid of people like me. He has to hate violence, and war, and death, and soldiers, no matter what side they fight for. That's the only way we can ever stop it...)

The girl stared at me skeptically, not understanding what I was saying. "_Beloof het me!_" (Promise me!) I ordered strictly, prompting the girl to finally stutter, "_ Ik- ik beloof het._" (I- I promise).

"_Goed_," (Good) I breathed, calming down some as I became aware of just how crazy I must look. I still don't know what came over me, but it was like a sudden epiphany, suddenly reaching the realization that, while I was necessary, I was still wrong. I had to kill but that didn't make it right, and the only way to break the cycle was to make sure the next generation feared and hated killers. All killers. No matter which side they killed for. If killing was acceptable for any purposes, then it would always be ok. I didn't want it to be ok to kill.

Strangely enough, I didn't _want_ to think it was ok to kill. And yet I still did.

It was too late for me, but it wasn't for Danel and his sister.

"_Zorg goed voor jezelf en je familie voor me_," (Take care of yourself and your family for me) I stated softly, pulling Lisebet into a hug. She squeezed me tightly back, burying her face against my stomach and crying slightly as she agreed, "_Jij, ook. Bedankt voor alles._" (You, too. Thanks for everything).

"I'm sorry for everything..." I whispered softly, trying to hold back my own tears because I'd told myself that absolutely under no circumstances was I to cry.

Kobus walked over just as I was releasing Lisebet, the blonde man smiling sadly as he cradled his whimpering son against his chest. He was brushing tears off of both of their faces.

I returned the weak smile, inquiring, "_Hoe voelt u zich?_" (How are you feeling?) His face was still bruised, and he'd only been unpetrified for a few hours, the Order luckily having contacts with the Hogwarts school nurse, who had saved some mandrake draught after the Chamber of Secrets ordeal.

Kobus didn't remember much from the kidnapping, just that he'd woken up in a strange place and had been repeatedly Crucioed and beaten by a man in a Death Eater mask for information on why the trio had come to his house. Since he didn't know why, he couldn't tell them. The torture had continued until another Death Eater fed him some veritaserum and they discovered that he was telling the truth.

After that, he didn't remember anything at all except thinking that they were going to kill him. He had no idea why they didn't, why they left him petrified or why they brainwashed those muggles to dump him over the cliff. It seemed like a rather stupid plan to me, the fact that I managed to save him testimony to it's ineptness.

The man had been through a lot. He looked exhausted, but still somehow strong, responding in fairly good English, "I am feeling fine, thank you. Is it time to go now?"

"Yes," I answered, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the portkey Moody had made for them. "It's going to be a relay port," I explained quietly, "As soon as you land with this portkey, someone will be there to take it from you and give you another. That will keep happening until you reach the end of the line. It should only take about a minute, but it makes it harder to track you or to interfere with the destination."

"I understand," The man stated, gathering his daughter to his side and giving her a tight squeeze. I handed him the shoe portkey, instructing, "Good. Just pull on the laces when you're ready."

Nodding, he exchanged a few hushed words with his children before turning back to me, giving a pained smile as he whispered, "Thank you."

And then they were gone. I was left all alone, staring at the empty spot on the grassy hill, staring at the marble gravestone just a few feet away. Tears blurred the beautiful day, and I found myself weakly choking, "I'm sorry."

xxXxx

The first thing I did when I made it back to Grimmauld Place was race upstairs to Remus' room. He was right where I left him, looking torn between acting sullen and pleased. On the one hand, the healer who attended him had reported he was to remain in bed for a week or two of rest. Too much stress on a heart that couldn't handle so much stress after years of transformations could very well give him another episode like the one I sort of gave him...

It was ironic. I sought him out with the purpose of killing him, but felt guiltier than hell for almost inadvertently doing so.

Of course, Tonks was doting over him, bringing him tea and chocolate whenever she sensed he might like some, smothering him with kisses when she thought I wasn't looking, and just being the all around perfect girlfriend. To me, it was gag-worthy, but Remus certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. He was in a surprisingly good mood for a post-moon werewolf whose estranged daughter stressed him into a minor cardiac episode by tactlessly informing him she'd jumped off a cliff after a petrified Dutchman...

We were all sorts of dysfunctional.

"Hi, Remus," I greeted sheepishly, standing in the doorway and watching as he and Tonks laughed over a tray of sandwiches. My dad smiled when he saw me, responding, "Hello, Leila. Did everything go alright?"

I nodded, reporting, "Ya, fine. They should be settling in now." Remus and Tonks both seemed relieved over my announcement, the orange-haired metamorph beckoning me forward as she offered, "Come have lunch with us. I brought up more than enough."

"No thanks," I muttered, uncomfortably backing out of the room, "I... I'm not hungry." I had some major guilt issues over Remus' condition. Never mind that the stress I caused was merely the final straw in a heart condition that had been developing since his very first transformation, that everyone had been assuring me since it happened that it wasn't my fault, I still felt solely responsible.

I was suddenly nervous about being around him, about causing him anymore stress. I didn't want to lose my dad now that I'd found him, and, statistically speaking, werewolves generally tend to die a lot earlier than normal people. Their bodies just give out after years of unimaginable strain. It wasn't fair.

"Are you sure?" Remus asked, seeming to be really into being fussed over because he was pouting like a small child. "Ya," I answered, turning and fleeing, "I'll check on you later." I left him with his non-stressful girlfriend and all the love she was heaping on him, all the blatant love he deserved and would probably never find from me.

On my way to my room, I passed an open door and heard my name called by a pair of identical voices. "Oy, Leila!" The twins chimed, fighting and getting stuck in the doorframe as they both tried to squeeze through at once. I spared them a small smile, greeting dryly, "Hi, boys."

"How'd it go?" One asked, elbowing his brother in the head as he shoved his way into the hall. "Fine," I answered flatly, feeling almost numb, "For a funeral anyways."

They flinched, the other twin getting his brother back for the elbow by punching him in the kidney as he offered sweetly, "Well, you wanna sit with us for awhile? Haven't had any quality time with our girl in forever."

My voice was cold, and I willed it not to shake like the rest of me as I turned away and announced, "I'm not your girl... I'm not sure what I am anymore..."

The statement wasn't true. I was fairly sure that I was a monster, however announcing that probably would've got me declared delusional and put on a twenty-four hour watch.

Ignoring the twins' confused calls, I went back to stalking towards my room. I almost made it all the way there without being interrupted again... almost...

"Leila!" I heard Roo's bright, sunshiny voice sing out just seconds before the little pixie with the red-gold hair and million watt smile bounced in between me and my door. Blue eyes sparkling, she proudly reported, "Lisebet taught me to say Dutch! She taught me _mijn naam is Roo en ik ben twee jaren oud._ It means, 'my name is Roo and I'm two years old'! Isn't that cool? Did I say it right? Will you teach me more stuff to say in other languages?"

"You did great," I said, fighting an affectionate smile, "And I promise to teach you, but not right now, ok?" Pouting slightly, the little girl huffed, "Ok. Thanks, Leila!" And with that, she skipped off down the hall, presumably to find someone else to impress with her newfound knowledge. I retreated into my room, locking, warding, and cursing the door behind myself.

I wanted to be alone for awhile.

This may surprise you, but I used to fancy myself a pacifist. My mom was very protective of me and had of course insisted I learn how to defend myself in dozens of different ways, but I never used a single one until after she was dead. I just didn't like violence. I didn't pick fights, I couldn't watch war movies, and I couldn't stand seeing anyone or anything hurt, no matter if it was a puppy or a Death Eater. I was naive and still held the foolish notions that no one deserved pain, everyone had some good in them, and anyone could be saved.

But I wasn't like that anymore, and, for the first time in two years, I realized what a monster I'd let myself become. I was a _monster_. I killed. I caused pain. I broke apart families. I was past the point of being saved and acted as judge, jury, and executioner for others like me.

I felt absolutely no remorse.

Because I had no illusions about what I was, but I also no longer had illusions about how _necessary_ I was. I wasn't a child anymore; I recognized that it was a kill or be killed world, and it was just my job to kill. If I did it, others wouldn't have to.

Murder destroys your soul, and it was better to sacrifice mine to save all those that were still innocent. Let the innocent keep their happy fantasies of how the world really worked. Let blood never touch their hands, and let them always fear the blood on mine.

I hated myself. Even though I was a necessary evil, I ached to have the old, innocent me back.

But she was gone forever. She died with my mom.

I was locked in my room for the rest of the day, laying on the floor beneath my bed and trying to just come to terms with my life, everything I'd lost and gained, to convince myself it would all be worth it in the end. That was always the plan, right? That was the upside. Someday we'd have peace, we wouldn't have to fight this war anymore... until the next power-hungry sociopath started amassing a following of morons and fanatics...

God, what was the _point?_ It would never end, would it? There was always going to be a _next_ Voldemort. History repeats itself, after all. We've been stuck in this same cycle of death and violence since the beginning of time.

Just as the sun was going down somewhere outside my closed curtains, I heard knocking on my door, followed by, "Leila, It's time for dinner."

"Not hungry, thanks," I returned, sniffling and wiping away the tears that had been refusing to stop for the last several hours.

I recognized that the person knocking was Bill when he knocked again, tried the locked doorknob, started pounding, and then demanded sternly, "Leila, open up!"

"Just leave me alone!" I fired back, desperate for solitude. I was frustrated and depressed and couldn't think straight. I couldn't stand myself and therefore couldn't stand to expose other people to me.

I thought Bill took the hint because he stopped pounding on the door. However, a few hours later when it finally swung open, I realized that he hadn't.

"How the hell did you get past my wards?" I demanded, somewhere between stunned and annoyed as I watched feet come towards where I was still hiding under the bed. I was good at what I did and people did _not_ break my magic if I didn't damn well want them to.

"Hello," The redhead responded with a slightly irritated, slightly amused eye roll as he bent down to my level, "Bill Weasley, cursebreaker. I do believe we've met on some previous occasions."

After shooting him a short tempered glare, I turned away and growled, "Sod off, Bill. I meant it when I said I wanted to be alone."

"Oh, I know," He said, sliding beside me under the bed. He barely fit and winced a bit but tried to hide it as he went on, "However it was a choice between breaking in here or having to listen to my mum and everyone else fret about you not eating again. I think I made the right decision."

"Arse."

"Brat."

"Pillock."

"Drama queen."

Our lightning quick exchange took only a fraction of a second and left me trying to fry that annoying Weasley with my murderous gaze alone. He was smirking, looking rather pleased that he'd gotten the last word in. I wanted to punch him. The fact that I wanted to punch him just seemed to prove all the bad things I was thinking about myself.

"Go away," I muttered weakly, turning my head to look out the other side of the bed, "I'm not hungry and I don't feel like talking to anyone."

"Well," Bill responded brightly, seeming to definitely be over his full-moon moodiness, "That's alright. I'll talk. You can listen." I tried not to cry, stating, "Please, just leave me alone."

"Can't," He hummed, far too peppy for my liking, "If I leave you alone and you end up hurting yourself again, Charlie will never forgive me."

That made me mad. "I'm not going to _hurt myself_," I snarled, turning over and glaring into his pale blue eyes, "I'm sorry I can't be a happy little robot just to assuage your guilt, but this really has nothing to do with you _or_ Charlie. This is about me, and I would like to be left alone while I'm dealing with something."

He smirked, shiny scar tissue pulling taut at the corners of his mouth and eyes as he inquired sweetly, "And what would that something be?" I really wanted to punch him. "None of your damn business," I growled, stubbornly refusing to break eye contact despite the fact that I could feel myself almost choking on a lump high in my tight throat as tears blurred the edges of my vision.

"Alright then," He hummed, "Like I said, you don't have to talk. I just wanted to apologize for the other morning. I'm not in my right mind that close to the moon and it wasn't fair at all to say those kinds of things to you."

"Not fair, but mostly true," I grumbled, thinking back on his accusations:

needy.

fragile.

emotionally codependent.

unstable.

unreliable.

Am I forgetting anything?

oh yeah, immature.

_"Dickface,"_ I thought bitterly.

"Nothing that I had a right to call you on," Bill supplied helpfully, looking a little embarrassed, "I mean, Charlie was really there for you so of course you depend on him. And it's not your fault you've never stayed in one place too long. You were brought up that way, but there's nothing to say you can't change now that you have somewhere to call home. And... well... you're not weak. If you've decided a life with Charlie is what you want, then I don't anticipate you letting anything get in the way, especially not an old grouch like me."

I blinked, really not having expected him to defend my relationship with his brother, especially when he'd been so adamant--and scary, don't forget scary--about his protests to it. "Uh..." I drawled, "Thanks..."

"No need to thank me for the truth," The man responded squirming to get comfortable on the hard floor and then sneezing as a dust bunny landed on his nose, "So you know you shouldn't feel like you have to prove something to me by keeping him away. If you need him now, then call him back. He'll come in a heartbeat if he even suspects you're getting depressed without him."

"I'm not depressed because I miss Charlie," I argued softly, sniffling and losing my battle with the tears I'd been keeping at bay, "I miss him like crazy, but he'll be back soon."

"So what's the matter?" Bill asked, struggling to turn over the in very small space beneath my bed, reaching out to pull me closer to him when he saw I'd broken down, "Hey, don't cry! Shit! I'm sor- OW!"

He slammed his forehead rather hard on the bottom of the bed frame. And it was funny, too. I remember hardly being able to breathe as I laughed through my tears.

The laughing put him at ease, but only slightly. He continued to watch warily as I sniffled and gradually got myself to calm down. When I was finally just crying quietly again, he asked very gently, "What is it?"

"I..." What was I supposed to say? He didn't know me before. How would he understand that I was so... different? I already knew that these "good guys" didn't share my views about good and evil, about when it was right to kill. He just wouldn't _get it_. I could already imagine how the conversation would go:

_"I don't like killing people."_

_"So don't."_

_"I have to."_

_"No you don't."_

_"If I don't, then who will?"_

_"No one has to."_

_"Someone has to._

_"You're crazy."_

_"You're an asshole."_

Charming, no?

"It's nothing," I finally insisted, closing my eyes and praying that Bill would leave it at that. No such luck. "I don't think so," He scolded, maneuvering himself so that he could awkwardly smudge the tears away from my eyes with one surprisingly elegant thumb, "If it's got you crying, it's not nothing. Spill."

"Why?" I demanded harshly, getting angry now, "Why should I bother? The last time I talked about my opinions in this house I just got looked at like I was a damned psychopath! And I'm _not!_"

"No one said you were-" Bill insisted, trying to argue.

"It's not my fault!" I cut him off, completely ignoring him. He wanted me to talk, and now I was going to, "I don't like killing people! I used to. For a long time it was the only thing that would make me feel better, but not anymore. Now I just do it because I _have to!_"

"You don't have t-" Bill tried again.

"I do have to! See, I knew it!" I cut him off once more, quite annoyed and quickly flying into a one-sided rage, "You're going to give me that same _killing is wrong_ and _we shouldn't sink to their level_ bullshit Harry the wonder boy still clings to like it actually means something! This is _not_ good versus evil! This is warring idealism! There is no right or wrong!"

"But-" The poor man gaped at me, trying to come up with some sort of argument to counter mine.

I loudly interrupted, "You people are so blinded by your morals that you don't recognize _reality_, and reality is that you're fighting for a different side, not necessarily the right one! You're just as bad as Voldemort!"

"HEY!" He shrieked, scowling and highly offended by my remark.

'"But I am too!" I soothed, continuing on as I glared up into the bottom of my mattress, "I have to be! You can't fight someone if you don't sink down to their level! No one in their right mind would believe that there's any chance of their enemy coming up to theirs, so that's the only way! You people fool yourselves into thinking that you're on some kind of high road, but you're not! You're tying your own hands behind your backs by refusing to recognize the _need_ to be just as ruthless as those you're fighting!"

"I don't think-" He stated gently, sounding like he was slightly torn, like my tirade was actually convincing him when he didn't want to be convinced.

"Would you ever expect mercy from a Death Eater?" I demanded hotly, turning to stare into his caring blue eyes, "Would you expect one to let you live just because you're a good man? Because you're a father? Because you wouldn't kill him if the tables were turned?"

"No..." He answered slowly, seeming almost reluctant to give me the answer I was clearly looking for, "But-"

Cutting him off yet again, I shouted, "The fact that he can expect it from you is a disadvantage to our side! They don't fear the Order because they've learned time and again that they'll be treated with _kindness!_ What the hell were you people thinking?"

"Well-" He argued sheepishly, screwing up his scarred face in concentration as he searched for some kind of come back.

I wasn't letting him really get a word in, continuing, "They're afraid of me because I've proven that I'm someone to fear! They made me this way! They took everything I ever had and they turned me into this _monster!_"

He snorted derisively, chuckling under his breath, "Ya, all five feet and eight stone of you."

I was instantly incensed, punching him as hard as I could manage in the small space I had, which, unfortunately, wasn't very hard. Bill's always been sort of a big baby though, so he pouted dramatically as he rubbed his arm.

"I didn't used to be this way," I sobbed hopelessly, feeling my anger washed away by a fresh wave of misery, "I couldn't even squash flies, and now look what I've become! Killing people doesn't bother me and there is something _wrong_ with that. I mean, there should be. I should see it. But I just... _don't_. I throw evil men off of balconies and decapitate Death Eaters without so much as blinking an eye. It's not even the acts that bother me, just my completely willingness to do them! I don't like having to be the one who does these things, but I feel no guilt! I should feel it, shouldn't I?"

For once, Bill didn't try to interrupt, merely staring at me like he was thinking very hard, like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve. His gaze was unnerving, uncomfortable, and I started to ramble even faster, "The worst part is that I can't _not_ be this way. It's just who I am now, even though I hate it, even though I never wanted to end up like this. I can't go back. Not ever. There is no coming back from being an angry, ruthless, vindictive _killer_, and that's all I am anymore..."

"So your life changed," He murmured softly, still squirming to get comfortable beside me as he tried not to bump his head again, "That was bound to happen. You evolved this way because of the tragedy and pain you've suffered through, and you can't find fault in yourself for that. It was out of your control. You aren't a monster for being a product of tragedy. You'd be monster if you were how you are for no reason, but that's not the case. You said this war, life, it isn't good versus evil, but at the same time you choose to fight for us. You kill to protect the people you love and that's _different_. You don't belong anywhere near the same category as those who enjoy causing pain, who are power-hungry and ruthless and selfish. You're not a monster, Leila. You're a strong and remarkable young woman who is fiercely protective of those she loves, and you're perfectly justified in being that way."

Quieting, Bill fixed me with a caring, steady gaze, for once not trying so hard to hide his marred face behind a curtain of fiery red hair. His words sunk in slowly, and, despite the fact that I didn't want to, I felt a little better. He made sense. I still didn't like what I'd become, but... I could see a path towards not hating myself so much... someday. That was nice.

Sniffling and coughing as I rubbed my eyes, I stated very quietly, "You're probably right... I just... I lost so much of myself with my mom. I miss it, and the hole it left feels like it's never going to stop being just... empty."

"That's how it works," The eldest Weasley child replied very sagely, "That's how it's always going to be. Something happens to change your world and you've got no choice but to change with it." It was dark under the bed, but I could see soft light from a crack under the door reflecting off the shiny scar tissue all over his once handsome face. "You adapt," He said, "You grow stronger. You pick yourself up and keep going. You learn to survive with all the holes, and then you learn to be happy in spite of them. You learn to appreciate what you still have that much more."

Reaching out, he tenderly brushed my blonde hair back from my face, his large, thin palm lingering to cup my cheek as he soothed, "We all just want to help you be happy again."

I managed a small smile, answering softly, "I... I am happy here... Thank you, Bill... I guess it's just hard sometimes remembering who I used to be..."

"Don't I know it," He chuckled warmly, a hint of almost-bitterness pulling at his voice and dimming the light in his pale blue eyes. But then as soon as it was there, it was gone, and he was tugging me into his side, giving me an awkward but brotherly hug. After a few seconds of hugging him back in silence, I heard him state happily, "So, now that you feel better, can we please get out from under here? I don't really fit that well and I'm starting to get a kink in my neck."

"Ya, sure," I laughed weakly, releasing him and easily scooting out from beneath the bed. Bill had a bit more trouble. He was still struggling by the time I walked around to his side. "Need some help, old man?" I offered, my voice light and teasing.

The tall, lanky redhead scowled slightly, insisting, "No, I'm fine. And I'll have you know that I'm not old. I'm not even thirty yet."

"Hmm," I replied thoughtfully, "Well then, for the record, I'm five-_two_. You did get my weight about right though, and I'll thank you to not go announcing it."

Finally managing to get to his feet, he smirked at me as he brushed himself off and stated with an oddly pompous air, "I am a perfect gentleman and have no problems exercising discretion in such matters."

"You sound like an idiot," I informed him bluntly, rolling my eyes as I turned and left the room. I was starving.

xxXxx

"Daddy, can I have a tattoo?" Roo asked sweetly, looking up from inspecting my new ink to pleadingly flutter her long eyelashes at Bill.

From the other side of the kitchen table at breakfast that morning, the tall man snorted behind his newspaper, turning a page as he quipped, "Hell no." The little girl scowled, scolding, "Bad words, Daddy!"

"Sorry, love," Bill automatically replied, reaching out to grab his mug of coffee, bringing it behind the newspaper, and then slurping loudly. I couldn't help giggling into my free hand.

Still refusing to give up my left arm or the idea of her own tattoo, Roo traced her fingers all along my angel and pouted, "Daddy, _please_ can I have one?"

"Nope," He responded sternly, not even bothering to look out from behind his paper, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you're too young. If you still want one when you get older, then we'll talk about it." The little girl wrinkled her nose, whining, "How old do I gotta be?"

Even without being able to see his face, I could tell Bill was smirking as he announced, "Well, Leila's twenty, and Uncle Charlie didn't get his first one until he was the same age, so I guess when you're twenty." The little girl started counting on her fingers, finally looking up and squawking, "But that's a long, long time!" Chuckling, Bill replied, "It sure is."

Before Roo could continue arguing, the twins skipped happily into the kitchen, looking far too wide-awake and cheery for that early in the morning. "Good day to you all!" One twin chirped brightly, taking a seat on my right. I was sure it was George because of the Ballycastle Bats t-shirt he was wearing. George liked Ballycastle and Fred was fonder of the Holyhead Harpies. They shared most clothes but refused to booster for each other's teams, so it was a helpful little trick I'd found for discerning which was which.

"I hope the morning finds you all well," Fred greeted, grinning as he plucked Roo up from the chair on my left, sat down in it, and situated the giggling little girl into his lap. He reached across the table for a plate of pancakes, eyeing my arm as he complimented, "Nice ink. An angel for our angel, right twin?"

"Absolutely," George responded, his mouth already stuffed to near bursting with half-chewed scrambled eggs. I shook my head and went back to my own breakfast.

A few minutes later, the Trio came trudging in. I was still furious about the Holland incident and they damn well knew it. They'd been trying pretty hard to avoid me whenever possible. Glaring at them as they took seats as far away from me as they could get, I snarled, "Moody and Tonks are giving you three stealth training after breakfast, and afterwards I'm going to work with you on common sense and some basic language skills." Unable to meet my eyes, they all nodded glumly.

"I wanna learn to say languages!" Roo chirped excitedly, fidgeting in Fred's lap and giving me an absolutely heart-melting smile, "Can you teach me, too? You said you would!"

"Of course, sweetie," I responded, smiling right back as I cut my pancakes, "We can start right now, if you want. Do you know which language you want to learn first?"

She thought about it for a moment, her pale blue eyes turned upwards as her little pink lips pursed in deep concentration. Her face lit up, and then she smiled and squealed, "French! I wanna learn French!"

The whole kitchen went deathly silent for about five seconds before Mrs. Weasley dropped a plate of sausages, the loud crash of glass shattering against the floor not making even one person seated at the table jump in any way. This was _so_ not good.

"Uh..." I gaped uncertainly, desperate to get out of the awkward situation that I just _knew_ was making Bill hurt, reminding him of what he'd lost with his wife. "Honey," I soothed, forcing a weak smile, "Maybe you want to learn something a little easier first. How about Spanish? The spelling isn't as complicated."

The little girl made a face at me, replying plainly, "No, I wanna learn French. Cuz my mommy lives in France. Right, Daddy?"

I cringed sympathetically, slowly looking along with everyone else to where Bill was still hiding behind his newspaper. His scarred, freckled knuckles were white from griping the flimsy edges. "Yes, sweetheart, that's right," He murmured, his voice strained and sad.

"See," His daughter went on, oblivious to the way we were all squirming uncomfortably, "'Sides, I'm not so good at letters yet and I can't spell a lot of words. You don't have to teach me spelling, just how to say it."

Shifting in my seat, I glanced at all the blank faces watching our exchange before finally surrendering, "We'll see." The girl opened her mouth to argue once more, however, Fred came to the rescue and shoved a piece of toast into it, brightly offering, "Hey, little one. How 'bout you and me go play with some fireworks? I made purple snapdragons yesterday. Those are your favorites, remember?"

Roo's face lit up in a big, excited smile, the little redhead chewing on a mouthful of dry toast as she squealed, "Really? Awesome!" Thank Merlin that girl is easily distracted. She allowed Fred to carry her away from the table without a fight, the two of them laughing and giggling and wrestling as they went off to play with fire. I don't think anyone had even the slightest thought of stopping them.

Breakfast was a much more silent affair after that and quickly broke up. Within ten minutes, it was just me and Bill left at the table, and he was still stubbornly hiding behind that paper. He wasn't reading anymore though; he hadn't turned a page in ages.

Cautiously, I got to my feet and walked to stand behind him. He didn't make any kind of acknowledgement of my presence and I could tell he really didn't want to talk. "Bill," I stated softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I won't teach her if you don't want me to."

He remained silent for another few moments before finally sighing, "No, you can. She's excited, and... her mother's culture should be a part of her life. I can't take that away just because I... because it's hard for me to deal with."

"You sure?" I pressed, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. He nodded, finally putting down his newspaper and running one large, thin hand over his face before muttering, "Ya, I am." He got to his feet, smiling tiredly as he soothed, "Teach her." With a slow daze visible on his scarred face, Bill wandered out of the room.

I set off to make sure the twins hadn't set any of my new students on fire.

xxXxx

So little Arielle "Roo" Weasley got her French lessons. She picked it up surprisingly fast for someone so young. I had her conjugating proficiently in only a few weeks.

I hoped that the Trio would be at least half as bright as she was, but, sadly, they were nowhere close, even combined. I didn't realistically think I was going to get them fluent in anything, sticking instead to phrases they might find important and how to say them dozens of different ways. I thought it would be a simple manner of memorization for them. I was wrong.

Hermione couldn't roll R's, leading her to butcher all most Romance Language pronunciations, and she constantly bothered me to make flashcards for her, then complaining that they weren't neat or colorful enough.

Ron couldn't keep track of which phrases would be appropriate in which countries, constantly spouting French when asked for Italian, Portuguese when asked for Spanish, Mandarin when asked for Cantonese, Korean when asked for Japanese, and drawing a complete blank in respects to all German.

Harry was just a stubborn asshole and it was unpleasant to deal with him in general. He spent so much time trying to get me to talk to him about philosophy, ethics, and morals, trying to convince me come over to his way of thinking that he barely paid attention to my lessons and didn't learn much of anything.

As I've insisted on many, many occasions, they are a pack of useless morons. Their brief successes up until that date had been mostly due to sheer luck, and I was terrified that lots of innocent people were going to suffer when the luck finally ran out... again.

Their physical training was going a bit better though. They had more stamina and endurance, thanks to hours of running, and their combat skills improved significantly. True, I still kicked their asses on a regular basis--because it was fun _and_ educational--but they didn't end up quite as bloody, and even managed to get a few shots in at me on occasion.

The two weeks during which they were all so sore that not one of them could move without whimpering and moaning was its own reward.

In order to prevent anymore disasters like the one in Holland from happening, I also decided to usurp control over the planning and execution of all future missions. The Trio argued--well, Hermione, mostly--but we had ourselves a battle royale, a who's more of a bitchy control-freak free-for-all, and I ultimately won out. It was much better like that; I had more knowledge and experience, and was just better equipped in general to be tracking down people and artifacts of interest. Before my mom died, I was well on my way to becoming a cursebreaker, after all, and had been doing just that for most of my life. The two years I spent as a crazed and deadly assassin didn't hurt either.

Days of researching, giving lessons, and training passed very quickly. And I was more than grateful for all the distractions.

Remus was able to get out of bed in mid-August, puttering around the mansion once more, trying to spend as much time as possible with me while I pointedly avoided him. It was unfair, I know, but I was too scared of losing him, of being the cause of his death to let myself risk becoming any closer to my father than I'd already gotten. I claimed I'd become too busy for our breakfasts, immediately left any room he entered, and refused all attempts--made mainly by Tonks--to get me to talk to him. I could tell I was hurting him, but... I guess on some level I'd decided that I couldn't handle to love and lose another parent, and that that would ultimately be the outcome of even the most favorable series of events.

August became September, and I marked the anniversary of my mom's death with a day-long visit to her gravesite in Chile. I cried. It hurt just as much as it had two years before and no end to the pain seemed even remotely possible. I tried to remember what Bill told me though, that you learn to live with the holes or you just stop living. I wanted to live again.

September became October, and I still hadn't heard from Charlie. I missed him like you'd miss oxygen at the bottom of the sea; without that stocky redhead, his warm, crooked smile and loving heart, I felt a constant ache like the ache of oxygen starvation throughout my whole body.

Nothing made it hurt any less.

My dreams made it hurt even more.

On the afternoon of October 3rd, I'd fallen asleep on one of the dusty purple couches in the library, a heavy Arabic tome open face down across my stomach. I dreamed of Charlie, of his laugh and touch, and was happily smiling and sighing to myself when I felt a light tap on my arm. Groaning, I tried to fight wakefulness, to stay in my fantasyland and avoid the ache of missing him for just a little while longer, but it was no use. Very soon, I found my eyes opening to the sight of Ginny's concerned face.

"You'd better come downstairs," She stated quietly, her expression solemn and unreadable even as her eyes betrayed terror. "What's wrong? Has something happened?" I demanded, immediately wide awake, jumping to my feet and jogging towards the stairs before she could answer.

I sprinted into the kitchen, my thick socks slipping against the smooth tile as I stopped short, causing me to slide right into Remus. He caught me before I could fall and embarrass myself; I always forgot that he wasn't nearly as frail as he looked and found myself quite stunned that he was easily supporting the full weight of my body. "Remus," I crankily scolded as he helped me regain my balance, "You should've let me fall! Your heart-"

"My heart is _fine_," He interrupted with a weak, hopeful smile, barely letting on that he was obviously rather sick of having to make that same assertion over and over, "It can take much more than a few extra beats to keep you from cracking open your skull."

I scowled at him but let the matter drop. It would do me no good to go off on him because I'm sure that's exactly what he wanted to begin with. Sadly, he'd become so desperate for me to talk to him that he'd started trying to pick fights over the last few days. He must've gotten the idea from Ron and Hermione's frequent blow outs; picking a smaller fight is how the redhead would get the egghead talking to him again, to get her to give him a chance to apologize.

I don't like to brag, but I'm a lot savvier than Hermione and always saw what Remus was doing two seconds before he'd even started doing it.

"So, what's this big emergency?" I asked, moving away from my father and his disappointed expression to finally take inventory of those present. Most of the Order was there, and that in itself was cause for alarm. Tonks had been standing just behind Remus, stepping forward to guide him into a seat between Mad-Eye and Kingsley Shacklebolt, a tall, bald black auror with a deep voice and friendly smile. Hestia Jones, a squat woman with rosy pink cheeks and shaggy jet hair was helping Mrs. Weasley serve tea and sandwiches while Dedalus Diggle, a funny little blonde fellow who always wore a garish violet top hat, whispered in a corner with the twins. They all looked far too serious to be telling jokes the way they usually would be. Elphias Doge, an old man who also liked stupid hats--he was sporting a pink-sequined beret over his long silver hair that night--was leaning over the far end of the table, his head bent in deep conversation with those around him. He clashed horribly with the straw growing from Sturgis Podmore's head, not to mention the fire growing from Bill's and coal growing from Harry's. Sirius was a little ways away from that group, towards the middle of the table, and he was taking long swigs out of a bottle of firewhiskey as he stared intensely straight ahead. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny walked in behind me a few moments later, guiding Hagrid and Minerva McGonogall in to this impromptu meeting.

I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, my dry mouth going sour as my palms sweated at my sides.

"Well?" I demanded, growing impatient from the lack of response. It seemed that no one had noticed me and it was highly irritating. I took a seat across from Sirius, pulling his firewhiskey bottle out of his hands and taking a long swallow myself. I had the suspicion that I'd probably need it to take the edge off of whatever was about to happen.

"What's going on?" I demanded from Sirius, hoping that, as the least occupied person in the room, my godfather would be able to shed some light on the situation.

He shrugged, still distracted by his own thoughts as he pulled the bottle back and reported, "Dunno. Arthur just owled a half hour ago and said that it was urgent for everyone to be waiting when he got home." Nodding, I watched Sirius take another long drink before he slid the bottle back over to me. I offered him a small smile, comforted by the gesture as I took my own swig.

We had to wait like that for another fifteen minutes, the time seeming like an eternity of worrying and speculating and drinking before the sound of the front door slamming finally brought the dull roar of conversation in the kitchen to a halt. We all waited on edge for the few endless moments it took for Mr. Weasley to reach us with his big news.

But the man who first stepped into the kitchen was not Arthur Weasley. True, he looked a bit like him, a younger version of the dotty old man, with vibrant red hair parted on the right and slicked down in a desperate attempt to hide obvious curls from view. He was tall and a little too skinny to be completely healthy-looking, though his neurotically straight clothing and absolutely white pallor didn't help him any in that respect. He was a Weasley, I was sure of that just from seeing the hair, but he didn't have enough freckles to fit in with the rest of the family. He probably hadn't been outside for months, blue eyes squinting behind horn-rimmed glasses just from the sun filtering in through the kitchen window.

The room was dead silent and every mouth but mine was hung open in shock and awe. I was pretty sure I was missing something...

Mr. Weasley arrived a few seconds later, clapping a hand on the uncomfortable lad's back as he smiled an elated, almost tearful smile. "Surprise," He chuckled, glancing expectantly around the room as he waited for _someone_ to say _something_.

"Who the fuck is he?" I demanded, my outburst fueled slightly by the copious amount of firewhiskey I'd been consuming as an attempt to calm my nerves. When I got no answer, I glared and added, "I'm new here, remember? Now someone tell me who the fuck that fucker is and why the fuck you all got so fucking quiet when he walked in!"

"Leila," Tonks hissed, kicking me beneath the table as she glared in a very _shut the fuck up_ tone of voice. Annoyed, I glared back and snarled dangerously, "Try parenting me one more fucking time. I dare you." She seemed very startled at my choice of threats, which was probably because she and Remus _still_ hadn't come out to me about their relationship. I tried not to let it bother me, but each day that passed with them continuing the hide and keep secrets had me growing more and more resentful.

"Ahem," The strange redhead interrupted, loudly clearing his throat to draw back our attentions. Still annoyed, I demanded, "Well, are you going to tell me who you are, or make me have to rely on the freak squad?"

After giving me a very disapproving stare, he greeted pompously, "My name is Percival Ignatius Weasley. And who might you be?"

"Leila," I answered crisply, stealing the firewhiskey bottle back from Sirius and earning a slight amount of resistance for the first time that afternoon, "Nice to meet you. See, people. Was that so hard? Now I can keep you all company here in the loop." Ok, I may have been just a wee bit drunk... it wasn't my fault! I hadn't eaten anything since the day before!

"Percy?" Fred gaped, both he and George still just staring and, it looked like, fighting back tears. That was a bit odd. The bespectacled redhead still standing in the doorway gave a terse nod.

And then the twins were suddenly shoving their ways over to him, both wrapping the taller man tightly in their arms, nearly knocking him to the floor with the force of the impact. They pressed their faces into either side of his neck and babbled, and sobbed, and cursed loudly in the silence of the kitchen as Percy himself just gawked at them in shock, awkwardly patting them on their backs after a few moments of doing absolutely nothing.

That broke the spell. Suddenly the crowd surged right for the newcomer, Weasley's at the head and trapping him into a tearful group hug. Everyone was shouting and laughing, a few crying, and I sat there at the table, confused and feeling just a bit left out because I had no idea what was happening.

I slid the firewhiskey bottle back from where Sirius had been sitting before he got up to give Percy's hair an affectionate tousle, and I drank, waiting impatiently for someone to explain to me what the fuck was going on.

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Aaaaaaannnnnd that's where I leave ya. Sorry folks. Couldn't resist.

Thanks to RebeccaRockChick for helping me with the Dutch translations.

Reviews will ease me through the pain of having to go back to stupid college soon. Contribute to my cause please.


	14. Part 14: The Return of the Prodigal Son

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WARNING! This part contains lemon. Sorry for anyone who doesn't like that. Anyways, hopefully it's good. Hope you enjoy either way.

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Part 14 - The Return of the Prodigal Son

Percy Weasley had been missing and presumed dead for over two years. None of his family or friends saw him from June 29th, 1997, when he was spotted leaving the Ministry of Magic a little before midnight, until the afternoon of October 3rd, 1999, when Mr. Weasley called an emergency Order meeting and walked into the kitchen of Twelve Grimmauld with his third eldest son.

There was happiness. There was crying. There was... confusion on my part because I didn't know what the big deal was.

Not once in the entire time I'd been staying with those people did they mention that there was one more Weasley child.

"I don't get it," I mumbled as Sirius finally resumed his seat across from me and tugged the half-empty bottle of firewhiskey out of my hands, "What's going on?"

With a shaking, relieved chuckle, my godfather bluntly stated, "We thought he was dead."

"Oh," I responded thoughtfully, turning back to watch the emotional reunion that was still going on between Percy and his family, "Ya, that would explain it."

The poor Weasleys. All that time they had to just assume their son, their brother, was going to spend eternity as a missing person poster. I know losing my mom was horrible, but at least I know what happened to her. I didn't have to spend my whole life wondering if she suffered, if she was possibly still being held somewhere or where they'd disposed of her body.

Two years. The Weasleys wondered and hoped for over two years. That's torture. I didn't understand how any of them could walk around with smiles on their faces, could be the loving, wonderful people they were.

Slowly, everyone drifted back to their seats, the twins settling Percy between them and putting their arms around his shoulders. It was a sweet, brotherly gesture that the bespectacled man seemed very uncomfortable with. Nonetheless, he did not push Fred nor George away.

"I know you all have questions," Percy began, his tone business-like and even, "And I know I owe explanations, as well as apologies, but, for now, please just listen to what I have to say. I've risked a great deal coming here and what I have to tell you is of the utmost importance."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley stated, smiling past the elated tears in her eyes as she gazed lovingly at her boy, "You just go ahead and say what you need to."

Percy nodded, politely stating, "Thank you." And then he began his story.

"Shortly after the Barty Crouch fiasco, I was approached by Amelia Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a very... different job. Based on Dumbledore's warning that the Dark Lord had returned, she wanted to send an undercover agent in to infiltrate his operation. I was secretly given auror training and then assigned as Fudge's assistant.

"I knew how you would react, thinking that he only chose me as a way of having a spy within our family. I was counting on it and the subsequent rift I could fabricate. I'm very sorry I had to use you all in such a manner, but it was necessary for my mission.

"After various falling outs with family members, I began to loudly express a false desire to get back at you all, as well as disillusionment with the Ministry's incompetence and displeasure with the influx of muggle culture perverting ours.

"It wasn't long until I was approached by an agent of the Dark Lord and after that I rose fairly quickly within the organization."

He sounded almost proud.

I could've kicked him in the fucking head.

"I-" He choked slightly, clearing his throat and having the good sense to look a little embarrassed as he went on, "They let me into the inner circle after I didn't visit you in the hospital, Dad. I'm sorry. I wanted to go but I knew what it could mean for my mission."

That was all he said on the matter, quickly continuing, "I do mostly bookkeeping, maintaining the legitimate fronts of several corporations that fund the Dark Lord's operations. I was in rather deeply by that point. Because I did such a good job, the Dark Lord requested several audiences with me. We had tea."

Charming.

"But then Amelia Bones was killed and the plan started falling apart. She was the only who knew that I was undercover and, without her, I had no secure contact to whom I could relay the information I was gathering. There were and still probably are compromised individuals within the Ministry.

"I approached Dumbledore and made an arrangement with him. In a sense I began spying on both the Dark Lord and the Ministry, using my positions and Death Eater bookkeeper and assistant to Minister Scrimgeour to inform the Order of impending threats as well as feed mostly false intel to the Dark Lord. The situation was beneficial for all.

"But then Dumbledore died and I no longer had a contact in the Order. Before I could reach out for another, I was demoted as Scrimgeour's assistant. He, like Fudge, gave me my position in order to spy on our family. When I made it quite clear that I wouldn't, that I had had very little contact with you for some time, he deemed me to be no longer of use to him.

"I no longer had a viable position in the Ministry and, again no longer of use in that respect, I was pressured to become a more active, full-time Death Eaters. If I refused, my motives would have come into question and endangered my life and the lives of all my family members. Not seeing any other options, I did as I was told and simply disappeared after work one evening.

"For the past two years I have been shuttled around the globe working on various continents to set up legitimate business fronts for the Dark Lord. I'm afraid his influence is quite widespread. But I kept my cover because I had many occasions to act subversively from within the organization. I never killed the people I was supposed to and I know the locations of at least forty missing and presumed-dead individuals. They are most definitely alive and safe for the time being."

"Where?" I demanded, really not liking the idea of those people's families not knowing what had become of them.

Percy stared right at me, looking me up and down as if evaluating me. He didn't seem all that impressed with what he saw, coolly questioning, "Do you intend to retrieve them?"

"You bet your fucking arse I do!" I answered, finishing off the bottle of firewhiskey and slamming it down against the table. Sirius snatched it away and gave a horrified little yelp, cradling the empty glass like it was a child.

Oops.

"If I tell you, you'll have to make the recovery operation incredibly stealthy," Percy warned condescendingly, "No one knows those people are still alive and, if it is discovered that they are, my position will be severely compromised."

I rolled my eyes. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" I raged at him, standing to my feet and wobbling a bit precariously, "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Not really," He responded pompously, uncaringly.

"I'll bet you do," I laughed, smirking cruelly, "You work with the Death Eaters so you're bound to know who I am! Does the name _Leila Kione_ ring any bells, motherfucker?"

His blue eyes went wide behind his thick glasses.

"Ya," I chuckled, "Fucking thought so! Tell me where those people are!"

He only paused for a beat before stating plainly, "Jan Mayen Island. It's just off the coast of-"

"I know where Jan Mayen is!!" I shouted at him, advancing a few paces and really goddamn pissed, "I was there a few months ago!! You're the one who tortured Kobus de Klauw and had those muggles toss him off the cliff!! You son of a bitch, I should kill you where you stand!!"

"It was necessary," He answered quietly, not showing any signs of fear. I had to sort of respect him for that. Just a little. I was really fucking scary, after all. "I had to keep up appearances," He said, "And it is entirely because of me that de Klauw and the other countless people are still alive. You'll find them in the water at the bottom of the Loran-C station cliff face."

I stared at him dumbly. "Shit!" I swore, kicking my empty chair across the room, "I jumped off that goddamn cliff for nothing!!"

"What?" Percy demanded.

"I was there when the muggles tossed Kobus," I explained, not quite as pissed at him as I had been but still a bit annoyed, "I went over the edge after him."

Percy laughed.

I lunged at him, fully planning on beating him into a bloody pulp.

Remus tackled me to the floor. "Please stop," He whispered as he was contorting my arms behind my back, "You're on the same side and he did everything he could."

Groaning, I relented, "Fine. Fuck. Whatever. Just get off me!"

He did so. I fetched my chair, dragged it back to the table, and slumped down in it, pouting quite childishly.

"How did you petrify them?" I wanted to know, "The only thing that would do that is reflected basilisk stare and the island didn't really strike me as a place where one could be hidden easily from muggles."

The corner of Percy's thin lips twisted ever so slightly before he dug one thin hand into the pocket of his overcoat. When he pulled it out, he had a gallon-sized, dark-tinted glass jar. He laid it on the table and we all squinted at the serpentine movement we could just make out inside.

"A gift," He said proudly, "From the Dark Lord. An operative within Hogwarts found a clutch of about a thousand eggs in the Chamber of Secrets and had them transported out."

All eyes turned to Draco.

"Don't look at me!" He shouted defensively, "I had nothing to do with it! That Chamber was rank! I wouldn't go in there unless someone was paying me a whole hell of a lot!"

A viable argument.

"Anyways," Percy elaborated, jostling the jar just a bit and smirking evilly as the fat shape inside lunged against the dark glass. The tiny teeth clinked loudly and left streaks of green venom to dribble down the sides. "I got the idea to petrify people and have them thrown over the cliff. They're all in stasis and so would remain safe until a time when they could be safely retrieved."

"And what if you died?" I hissed, feeling horrible about the pained looks on the faces of the Weasley family but trying not to care, "What if you died and those people were never found?"

"I have several contingencies in place," He responded, voice low and clinical, "I'm not stupid."

For a long, tense few moments, we glared heatedly at one another in the stillness of the kitchen.

"So why did you come back now?" I asked, fighting hard to keep civil as the firewhiskey coursing through my system made my head spin, "What's so urgent that you'd finally risk this all-important mission?"

He glanced sadly at the rest of the Weasley clan, his crying parents, his proud brothers and sister. "Because," Percy answered, "There is a plan in the works to kidnap someone in my family."

Everyone drew in a sharp breath.

"Who?" Fred yelped. George contributed, "And what the bloody hell for?"

"I thought we were considered a 'kill on sight' kind of bunch," Bill dryly joked, "Kidnapping is a bit generous."

Shrugging, Percy stated, "I don't know why. I'm high up but I'm not privileged to some of the more sinister plots. I just overheard a conversation. I couldn't make it out very well, but they mentioned the 'Weasley,' 'snatch,' 'powerful,' and 'asset.' That was all I got."

"Are you thinking some kind of ransom thing?" Ron asked lowly, seriously, "Because I'm probably the one they're after then."

Harry hung his head in shame and anger.

"Possibly," Percy answered, "But I don't think that's the extent of it. Because of your connections to Harry, you and Hermione have always been high on the list of prime targets. Numbers two and three, actually. I have a feeling this is something more. The two Death Eaters who were discussing it were a pair of men I know to be Dark Magic researchers. Their sole job is to come up with new and exciting ways to hurt people. I think they've isolated something special about one of you, about your magic in particular, and they've decided it would be beneficial to attempt to harness that potential power for the Dark Lord's use."

There was silence.

"What do you think we should do, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked tearfully.

Sighing, her son said, "Be careful. I suppose I really shouldn't have come with this kind of unsubstantiated and vague threat, but... I just didn't want to risk any of you being hurt because you didn't know, because I chose not to warn you."

They all beamed at him.

It was kind of sweet. Maybe he wasn't so bad...

"And now I must go," He declared sternly, gathering his jarred snake as he stood stiffly from his seat between the twins.

They were both quick to jump up after him. "Aw, come on, mate," George pleaded tearfully. "You just got here!" Fred said, "What's the harm in staying for a few minutes?"

Percy looked sorely tempted, gazing sadly at his family members. But that only lasted a brief moment and then he shook his head and reiterated, "No. It's not safe. I shouldn't remain here any longer than I have to and I need to be getting back to my work." He turned to me, his voice oddly respectful even after all the shouting and cursing and threats of physical violence I'd aimed in his direction not quite five minutes before. "Be careful," He said, "The island is heavily watched during the day." He nodded to his father, adding, "I'll be in touch."

With that, he turned and swept from the room, leaving his family with their hearts swelling with love and pride but broken with fear and worry.

xxXxx

More time passed. The Weasley family mostly stayed inside Grimmauld Place and much greater security measures were taken when they did go out. I led the trio on an excursion back to Jan Mayen and we used magically enhanced scuba gear to pull forty plus petrified victims out of a gulley at eighty feet below the surface of the water. It was very satisfying to be able to reunite them with their families--even if they all had to then go into hiding so Percy's cover wouldn't be blown--and the whole thing made me feel a bit better about myself, about how the situation was finally starting to look up a bit.

We celebrated a few birthdays. Mrs. Weasley's forty-ninth on October 30th and Bill's twenty-ninth on November 29th. The parties were fun, nice distractions to everything that was going on, both in my little world and the universe at large.

Attacks had stepped up. Terrorist-type bombings began taking place at highly populated magical sights all over the world. Five-hundred dead in Athens, two-hundred-fifty in Sydney, nine-hundred in Rome. I kept working with the trio to try to round up horcruxes, largely coordinating the efforts. By the end of November, we had a pretty clear fix on an unknown object suspected to be located somewhere in Belgium. I was operating under the highly amusing theory that it was Voldie's teddy. I enjoyed imagining a scenario in which he'd burst into hysterical tears when he realized I'd sliced it to pieces.

I guess I'm just sick like that.

We did a brief recon mission on December 1st and had a plan to go back towards the end of the month to raid the Catholic church where we believed the object was stashed... I didn't mean that to be quite as sacrilegious as it sounded...

I would've been perfectly in my element and perfectly at ease had it not been for Charlie. Not only had I still not gotten word from him, not only was I now worried to death over him being kidnapped because of Percy's declarations, I... I started having erotic dreams about him.

I'd been having dreams for awhile, but not like those. They were so vivid and wonderful and incredibly frustrating since they weren't fucking real and never fucking finished.

I would be lying in bed, half-asleep, and a solid weight would dip my mattress, hovering over me and slowly lowering itself close. The body would feel so warm, so strong, and I wouldn't be able to resist reaching out to touch.

Charlie's crooked, cocky grin would swim into focus as I opened my eyes.

I'd just barely have a chance to breathe his name before his lips were crashing down against mine, fierce and tender and oh-so-very-wonderful.

We stayed melded together for an impossibly long time; I no longer needed oxygen because I had Charlie in all his dizzying perfection.

But, finally, he would reluctantly pull away, making me whine and reach for him as he panted heavily and nuzzled his scratchy russet stubble against the smooth column of my neck. His hands would slide beneath my thin t-shirt as mine did the same to his, as we wordlessly began stripping each other of the layers that stood between us. Soon there would be nothing, just skin on skin, hot and slick and electric, our bodies joined with an exquisite stretch and symphony of gasps and moans, moving together in a slow, rhythmic rise to ecstasy.

Charlie would hold me close as he moved above me, whispering words of love against my skin, and I would feel my heart just about burst.

"Is this a dream?" I would inevitably ask just before we both reached our peaks, because I could never seem to stop myself.

Charlie's movement would suddenly cease, his blue eyes shining and open as he stared down at me. "Yes," He would reply.

In the next moment, I would find myself bolting upright in bed, breathing heavily and sweating and just about ready to snap.

It was fucking maddening.

I wasn't some sex-goddess but I was no blushing virgin either and a girl does have needs and I couldn't seem to satisfy mine without that man. Charlie and I hadn't even done anything yet and I still couldn't get over missing his touch. Nothing was good enough to replace it and I remained frustrated and damned cranky.

Usually I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after one of those dreams. I'd lie awake, cursing the world.

Several nights a week, I'd hear the door to my room softly open and close, followed by tiny feet scampering across the floor. Roo's bright eyes would peek over the side of my bed, checking to see if I was up.

She'd taken to jumping into bed with me at night if she had bad dreams. I was the only one awake at that hour on a regular basis.

"_Bonjour, petite_," I would greet quietly, "_Comment allez-vous_?" (Hello, little one. How are you?)

"_Je vais bien_," She'd answer as she crawled beneath my covers and squirmed to get comfortable, "_J'ai eu un cauchemar_." (I'm fine. I had a nightmare)

Her French lessons were coming along nicely. The little girl was certainly more adept than the trio and her pronunciation was near perfect.

I'd kiss her cheek, hugging her close and whispering, "_Désolé, ma jolie fille. Le quel était de?_" (I'm sorry, my pretty girl. What was it about?)

She'd squirm, pouting at me as she clumsily pushed long locks of red gold away from her face and said, "_Les licornes encore_." (The unicorns again.)

It was always those damn unicorns. Far as I could tell, she wasn't afraid of the beasts. On the contrary, she was rather fond of them. But they always had starring roles in her bad dreams. It was strange.

On one particular night, after that typical chain of events, we just laid there in silence for a while before Roo finally asked, "_Leila, comment dites-vous _'I love you'?" (Leila, how do you say 'I love you'?)

I smiled, "_'Je t'aime.' Pourquoi?_" ('I love you'. Why?)

She grinned mischievously throwing her arms around my neck and cuddling close. "_Parce_," She murmured tiredly, "_Que je veux savoir le dire à ma maman quand je la rencontre_." (Because I want to know how to say it to my mummy when I meet her.)

A lump suddenly appeared high in my throat, tight and strangling and I couldn't swallow it down. I hugged Roo tighter and tried to remember how to pray.

xxXxx

Remus' fortieth birthday was December 4th, 1999. On December 3rd, Tonks cornered me after breakfast.

I was still avoiding my father and I was still pissed at the both of them for not telling me that they were dating. The metamorphamagus, who was sporting blue and green striped spikes that day, was not exactly my most favorite person in Grimmauld.

I was pulling books down from the shelves in the library and I heard her coming. She had a distinct, inherently clumsy walk that was just about unmistakable. She thought she was being stealthy though so I didn't let on that I knew she was there and I didn't turn around. Maybe, I reasoned, if I ignored her for long enough, she'd lose her nerve and go the hell away.

"Leila."

Damn. No such luck.

I glanced down from the top of the ladder on which I was perched, blowing dust off of an ancient copy of _Commentarii de Bello Gallico_. "I'm busy," I snapped shortly, turning my attention back to the old book.

"Your dad's birthday is tomorrow," She went on regardless, sounding rather annoyed, "I'm planning the party and I want to make sure you aren't going to skip out and that you'll have a gift for him."

Glaring, I responded, "What business is it of yours what I do and do not do?"

She opened her mouth like she was going to launch into the 'I'm his damn girlfriend and I care about his feelings' speech I'd been trying to provoke. However, instead, she merely said, "I know he's not going to be able to enjoy himself if you're not there. You're his daughter."

With an eye roll, I went back to flipping through my book, stating, "I'll think about it."

"No you will not think about it!" She crowed indignantly, obviously getting pissed, "You will get your skinny arse down from there right this second and you will go buy him a sodding gift!!"

"Lady," I snarled, stashing the book and jumping to the floor, getting right up in her face. She was taller but I was meaner, "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I will kick your mighty morphin' arse if you ever speak to me like that again. I don't take orders from you. I already have a mother and you aren't even _half_ the woman she was. Are we clear?"

Expression deeply wounded, she reeled back a step. I know it was a bitchy thing to say, I know she just wanted to make sure I would be there for my dad and was just trying that tough love thing everyone seemed to fond of using on me, but I couldn't help myself.

Fucking Remus did not make her my new mother.

She and my dad could hump like bunnies every night for the rest of both their lives for all I cared, but that chick would never be my mother. She'd never come close.

She needed to understand that if we were ever going to get along.

Without another word, I shoved past her, off to buy Remus a birthday present. I'd just thought of the perfect one...

xxXxx

My mood wasn't exactly one that could be called sunny the next day, but I spent most of the morning highly looking forward to watching Remus (and Tonks) when he opened my present. I was barely able to sit still during the cake because I was so excited and nearly botched teaching Roo how to sing "Happy Birthday" in French.

But, at last, Remus reached for my gift. He beamed when he read the simple, handwritten tag, elatedly announcing, "It's from Leila!"

I had a rather stupid grin on my face.

He tore open the pretty blue wrapping paper the shopgirl had thrown in for no extra charge, prying open the small box he found beneath and immediately going pale.

I was trying so hard not to giggle that I could barely breathe.

He dangled the ball-gag and leather flogger out at arms length, not seeming to know exactly how to react to them. After laying both gifts on the table, he pulled out the card. As his eyes moved over the words I'd written, I recited them from memory in my head:

_"Happy birthday, Dad. Shut your girlfriend's big fat mouth and beat her arse raw or I'm going to do it for you."_

Sirius, who had been reading over Remus' shoulder, laughed so hard that he ended up on the floor, curled in a ball and seeming to be in a great deal of pain as he held his held his convulsing stomach.

Tonks was entirely stark white, hair and all.

I couldn't get the stupid grin off my face, especially when Roo picked the ball-gag up off the table, examined it with great interest, and brightly asked, "What's this for, Mr. Remus?"

xxXxx

Remus tried to have a "talk" with me that night.

I told him there was nothing to talk about; I didn't give half a shit who he was fucking as long as she got it through her thick, multi-colored skull that she would not be parenting me now or ever.

But it wasn't like that.

They were in love.

I went to bed.

Frustrated by my dreams, I gave myself the goal of trying to put a stop to them before they could get me so bothered that I couldn't go back to sleep. I hadn't had any luck with my previous goal of trying to get the dreams to progress to a satisfying conclusion, so that seemed like my best option.

I was lying in bed, half-asleep, when I felt a solid weight carefully dip my mattress, hovering over me and slowly lowering itself down. The body felt so warm, so strong, and, even before I opened my eyes, I couldn't resist reaching out to touch. The skin beneath my palms was like hot silk melded over a layer of steel. Biceps under my right hand, I knew just from the feel, abs under my left.

I gave a frustrated whimper, reaching up to clutch a head full of soft shorn hair tight in both fists, amazed at just how real it felt and cursing my subconscious for having such power. Brimstone and clove smoke and earth overwhelmed my senses. "Don't leave," I begged, feeling stupid for talking to a dream and close to crying because it wouldn't fucking listen to me. I didn't want to open my eyes because I was so afraid it wouldn't be who I wanted it to be; or worse, that I'd be just in time to watch him melt away.

The body blanketed mine, mass crushing and exquisite. Thick, chapped lips and a scruffy beard nuzzled my neck as Charlie's warm voice rumbled, "Never again, love."

I let my eyes open in the dark, saw red hair and freckles and those dangerous-tropical-water, drown-and-not-even-care blue eyes and a loud, convulsive sob bubbled up out of my throat. My arms tightened around Charlie's strong body and I slammed my lips fiercely against his, so desperate for him that my previous plan of cutting the dream off went straight out the window. I just didn't care anymore. I missed him and I wanted him in whatever way I could get him.

"Please," I begged mindlessly, hardly aware of the tears as I wrapped my legs around his slim waist and held on for dear life, under the impression that my thighs were enough to hold the figment of my own overactive imagination firmly in place, "Stay. Please."

"Not going anywhere," He promised, cupping my face reverently in his palms, smudging away tears with his thick thumbs, compulsively petting my mussed blonde hair. He pressed his forehead against mine, closing his eyes and letting out a strained groan. "God, I missed you so much," He growled deeply, "So fucking much. Leila..."

"Charlie," I responded, leaning up to kiss the hollow of his throat, to suck and lick all up the tight cords of his neck because I suddenly couldn't go another minute without the tangy salt, vaguely charred taste of his skin.

He pulled me closer, our bodies molded against each other, my breasts pressed painfully but wonderfully tight against his chest and our hips locked and tongues clashing and it still wasn't enough. Wasn't close enough.

"Charlie," I moanpanted, tugging at his t-shirt in my rush to get it over his head, "Charlie. I want- I want-"

He kissed my cheek. The gesture so tender that I thought I'd die from the rapid fluttering jump in my heartbeat. "You sure, baby?" He asked, voice strained but gentle, laced with his own wants and needs but... willing to take it slow and needing to make it right.

Wait a minute.

My dream didn't know what I wanted?

My dream wanted to take it slow?

What?

I stopped dead, peering up through the dark and into his confused face, brushing my knuckles along his scratchy square jaw and once again noting just how real, how solid he felt.

I had to know.

"Is this a dream?" I whispered, wide-eyed and already mentally berating myself for spoiling a good thing as I prepared for the sickening jolt back into lonely consciousness.

A cocky, crooked smirk twisted Charlie's handsome features, his eyes bright as he leaned to kiss me again, wrapped his arms around me and rasped against my ear, "Dream come true, love."

"CHARLIE!!!" I shrieked, struggling to reach for the lamp on my bedside table, switching on a light because I needed to make sure it really wasn't a dream, wasn't some sick joke my mind was playing.

His broad, muscular frame didn't melt away, stayed kneeling over me with an amused yet vaguely puzzled expression on his tan, freckled face.

He was real!

He was back!

"Oh, Charlie!" I cried, throwing my arms around his neck and squeezing tight as I cried tears of joy against his shoulder, "Charlie, you're back!! I missed you so much!!"

"Missed you, too," He breathed, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply. He squeezed me so tight that his arms shook and my ribcage just about cracked. It was the greatest feeling in the world--safe, wanted, loved.

We stayed like that for the longest time, just glad to have each other back, unwilling to let go for even a moment, because neither of us wanted the other to get away again. Eventually, those nights of frustration seemed to flood over me all at once, turning my skin hot and flushed, hypersensitive, aching for touch. I kissed Charlie's bare shoulders, splaying my hands flat against his strong back and drawing the tips of my fingertips along the lines of his Fireball tattoo. I traced his body for injuries, found none, then began tracing his body purely for the immense pleasure of tracing his body. I reveled in the harsh angles of him, the firm, supple plains of muscles and the starkly defined lines that separated them from each other, the sun-kissed freckles and smatterings of crinkly dark ginger hair.

He shivered under my touch, impossibly large hands pushing beneath the oversized nightshirt I wore. His hard calluses grated the soft skin of my sides, had me moaning with the feather-light caress as trailed open-mouthed kisses against my collarbone.

"So," He questioned conversationally, smiling and casually stroking my hip, "Did you stay out of trouble while I was away?"

Laughing breathlessly against his ear, I writhed beneath him and tightened my grip on his short hair. "Not by a long shot," I quipped, high off... him. Just him.

He leaned back a bit, kneeling between my legs and grinning up at me over the length of my body, all mischief and trouble as he placed a chaste kiss on the inside of my bare left knee. "That's my girl," He beamed proudly, kisses coming higher, nimble fingers toying with the elastic on my simple white cotton panties as they came down.

"Charlie," I breathed shakily, meeting his eyes over the slight swell of my own breasts and stomach, my fingers grasping his short hair and pulling to urge him forward.

He laughed against my aching center, breath hot, maddening. He took his time, cradling, trapping my backside in his broad hands and laying electrified kisses against the soft skin of my thighs but not where they would have been most appreciated. I whimpered helplessly, wanting to shout _stop teasing, you git!_ but unable make the words come out. My throat felt too tight to speak, my limbs too heavy to move as the ache in my gut turned to a raw, needy burn.

"_Charlie_," I finally managed to whine, the word frantic and choked. I was almost sobbing in frustration yet again and that man seemed oblivious to the fact that I was about to yank a fistful of his hair out by the roots.

"Patience, love," He chuckled, tongue darting out for just one mind-numbing flick against my swollen clit. It made me yelp shrilly, sent my hips skyrocketing up for more, but Charlie easily held them right where he wanted them, nuzzling his scratchy stubble against the inside of my thigh and nipping lightly at the juncture before adding, "Got all the time in the world..."

Charlie is an exceedingly patient man.

I am not a patient woman.

However, his patience led to such... exquisite consequences that I can hardly find fault. After all, who am I to complain if he wants to spend the better part of an hour with his face between my legs, making me writhe and beg mindlessly as he brings me close to the edge over and over and over without letting me fall?

"Charlie, _please_," I sobbed, barely able to breathe, unable to think at all past the ravenous need to which he'd driven me.

I felt him grin against my cunt--such an odd place to feel a grin--his fingers and tongue doing the most amazing things as he hummed, "Well, I guess since you asked so politely."

Without warning, he rubbed and licked in the absolute _perfect_ spots and I felt myself coming so hard I saw nothing but white hot nothing, my whole body convulsing, my hips fucking _vibrating_ with the force of the waves after waves of contractions set deep in my abdomen and radiating outward. For a moment, the conscious part of me was expelled by pure lust, by biology and need and the deep primal satisfaction that ignited every nerve ending. In this detached state, I listened to myself crying out in sheer ecstasy, observed the stretched handfuls of sheets in my fists, watched Charlie watching me with an utterly adoring, awestruck expression on his wet, shining face.

The whole room went dim and fuzzy for a bit. When I fully came back to myself, Charlie was laying in the bed beside me, propped up on one elbow and playing with a shock of dirty blonde as he smiled that smug-bastard smile I knew I was never going to get enough of.

"Did you cut your hair?" He inquired pleasantly, not sounding at all like he just sent me into a blackout orgasm, "It's cute."

Cuddling against his bare chest, I grinned and let my hand wander down his taut stomach, beneath the waistband of his tatty blue jeans. He wore nothing beneath. "Do you really want to talk about my hair?" I challenged impishly, refusing to be put off by the fact that my voice was still quaking as I stroked his hard cock, "I can think of much better things to do right now."

He sucked in a harsh breath, body going rigid and eyes slamming shut. Giggling, still buzzed off the joy of having him back, ignoring the fact that I my legs were so weak and quaky that they could barely support my weight, I gracelessly straddled his hips. I undid his zipper, peeling denim off his sculpted ass and lean, sinewy legs.

"You don't play fair, love," He groanchuckled, rough hands reaching for me as I peeled my nightshirt over my head. I snickered at him and moved just out of reach, swatting his leg and replying, "As if you're one to talk."

With a playful growl, Charlie sat up quickly and darted out to grab me around the waist. I shrieked in surprise as he yanked me into his lap, trapping me in his strong arms and attacking my breasts with teeth and tongue, hands everywhere at once. I exhaled shakily, holding onto his shoulders as he slid his cock smoothly inside of me. I felt filled, whole, right where I belonged. The both of us moaned deeply, clinging to each other and hoping to never have to let go.

"God," Charlie gasped, stilling with great effort as he gazed up at me, pressing my electrified body tight against his, "God. Leila. So beautiful. I-"

I leaned down to kiss him, effectively silencing his nonsensical babbling and beginning to move.

The pace was slow, a tender, building rhythm set by the broad hands at my hips, rising me up and down in time with the ragged breaths licking across my sweat-slicked skin. As soon as my lips left his, Charlie began babbling again--he didn't seem to be able to stop--whispering words of love and adoration against any and every inch of me he could reach. My breathing was shallow, caught between disbelief and utter bliss as the two of us traveled higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun wrapped in each other's arms.

All at once, I felt a rapid, trilling buzz against my clit, crying out loud with shock as Charlie did the same, his hips bucking wildly as his rhythm began picking up, began loosing beats in the frantic drive for more. Looking down, I discovered the snitch tattoo hovering just at the base of his cock, wings beating wildly and shining gold body attacking the both of us every time I ground down.

And with Charlie's mouth gasping, sucking, pulling at my breasts, his hands kneading my ass as his moans and incoherent cries filled the air, it was too much, for the both of us.

Tidal waves of pleasure pounded over me, pouring out from that wonderful epicenter deep in my gut and turning my limbs to jelly. I felt my inner walls contracting around Charlie's cock, felt him pulse inside me and cry out my name against my throat as his hips snapped forward again and again, pistoning harder and harder, clutching me desperately against his chest as he rode out the flood of his own release.

When I recovered, we were lying down again, Charlie sprawled on top of me and using my breasts as pillow as he panted for breath in his sleep of exhaustion. His arms were so tight around me, safe and strong and warm, almost like he expected me to be taken away at any moment and he would fight with everything he had to keep that from happening. The snitch tattoo made an appearance, fluttering around the dragon tattoo across his back and coming to rest on the cap of his shoulder.

I leaned back against the only pillow out of five that had managed to stay on the bed during our energetic coupling, running my slim fingers through Charlie's soft ginger hair. I closed my eyes and fell asleep with a blissful smile on my face.

xxXxx

Three days later, Charlie and I still had not left my bedroom. We were surviving off chocolate bars from his knapsack and he'd transfigured a small bathroom and shower just off the closet. We didn't particularly need anything else.

My room was an all out disaster area, complete with overturned furniture and piles of clothes and sheets and pillows that had been flung haphazardly about in each renewed fit of passion. The air was sticky and hot.

Both Charlie and I were covered all over in bites and bruises, all our muscles sore and strained, but it didn't matter. After being apart so long, neither of us wanted to share the other, nor did we want them to be out of arms reach for longer than a few moments.

We spent the exhausted lulls between sleep and sex cuddling and talking quietly, filling each other in on all that we'd been doing in the other's absence. Charlie's dragon mission went very well. He successfully saved several beasts from Death Eater hands and gathered some intel in the process. After hearing my stories about running into the burning building, throwing a Death Eater out of an apartment building, and diving off a cliff into the Arctic Ocean, Charlie spent about three hours sulking angrily and another three trying to torture me into swearing I'd never do anything so stupid again. I told him I couldn't make that promise but I would definitely try to be more careful. It was good enough for him and he finally, relented his assault by giving us what we were both fitfully craving.

But alas, the sex-a-thon had to end at some point. On the evening of the third day, we were lounging naked across my nearly bare bed, panting and trying desperately to recover from yet another marathon love-making session. We'd been naked for pretty much all three days; the only time clothing touched my body, it was just lacy lingerie, which Charlie was very appreciative of yet very quick to rip to shreds in order to get to what was hidden underneath.

Grinning broadly and gasping for air, Charlie rolled over and began kissing a small cluster of freckles he'd discovered at the base of my spine. He liked to connect them with his tongue, tracing the shape of a small, lopsided heart and claiming that it was _his_ heart.

"I told you that I love you yet today?" He beamed, pulling me out of my almost nap, rolling me onto my back and flopping gracelessly down on top of me to once again situate his head against my breasts. He'd declared that they were _his_ pillows and I wasn't about to argue.

"Mmm," I hummed contentedly, lazily, stretching like a jungle cat in a sunbeam, "Not in the last five minutes."

He tsked, snuggling closer and yawning, "I'm laying down on the job then... Leila?"

"Mhmm?" I responded, eyes only half open as I once again began drifting off into an utterly drained sleep.

Picking his head up just a bit, Charlie smiled down at me, planting a chaste kiss on my lips before whispering, "I love you."

"Love you, too, stud," I responded softly, smiling despite myself, "Now shut the hell up and let me sleep or no more sex."

"I'll be good," He quickly chirped, settling back down in his newly-claimed spot, letting out a deep sigh as the both of us got comfortable in the center of the bed.

The door to my room flew open with a loud and sudden _BAM_, making Charlie and I both jump nearly out of our skins and then take a tumble onto the floor. As I was falling, I just barely registered Remus, Sirius, Bill, Tonks, and the twin standing in the doorway with expressions of complete surprise all over their slack-jawed faces.

"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL DO YOU PEOPLE THINK YOU'RE DOING?" I screamed, irate and embarrassed and scrambling desperately for something to cover myself with. Charlie's discarded t-shirt got the job done, the worn white cotton just the right size to hold against my chest and still have my crotch covered.

"Y-You-" Remus stuttered, seeming like he desperately wanted to turn and run for all he was worth but was finding that his legs had gone numb, "You warded yourself into your room. None of us could get in. We were worried that you'd- that you'd-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!!" I shrieked wildly, not caring for their justifications all that much. Yes, I'd warded the door shut. I didn't want us to be disturbed.

Reaching behind myself, I grabbed a small ceramic lamp off the bedside table and hurled it violently at the crowd of gawking intruders. Bill ducked just in time to avoid getting a faceful of glass.

"How did you get here, Charlie?" He asked nonchalantly, like he hadn't almost just gotten his massive collection of scars added on to.

"Apparated," Charlie responded bluntly, on the floor and red in the face and cupping his hands over his privates as he looked for anything he could use to cover up with. He wasn't having as much luck as I had, finding only a pair of my skimpy panties within arms length.

As the pros and cons of reaching for and using the scrap of black lace warred across his handsome features, I glared at our audience, who still had yet to make any attempt at the hasty exit the situation demanded of them. "Get the fuck out!!" I screamed once more, the embarrassment starting to get to me as I found my voice cracking pitifully.

The twins were hypnotized by the one bare asscheek they could still see just beneath the side of Charlie's t-shirt, both men grinning like mad. Gaze seeming to take in the bites and bruises on both my and Charlie's bodies, as well as the complete state of chaos the rest of the room was in, George elbowed his twin and remarked, "Told you she was a hellcat in the sack."

"Yup," Fred agreed, not even trying to get the ridiculous grin off his face, "We totally called it... Hey, Leila-"

"Don't even _think _of finishing that sentence," Charlie snarled menacingly, struggling to his feet and stomping right into the young man's face. He was still naked, still holding his hands in front of his crotch, and probably would have looked hilarious on any other occasion.

The twins were too fucking afraid to even so much as smirk, the previous smiles melting off both their faces at once before they up and _fled_.

Loudly clearing his throat as he stared down the remainder of our unwanted visitors, Charlie unflinchingly declared, "If it's not too much trouble, could you please _go away_."

Regaining some sense, Remus turned and followed the twins' example, joined shortly by Sirius, who was giggling, and Tonks, who was trying desperately not to.

Bill was the only one who remained, mangled face flush with the effort of keeping his laughter at bay. "Um," He snickered cruelly, as only a big brother can do, "I'll let Mum know you're home. Dinner's in fifteen so... be sure to put on some pants."

"Bill," Charlie growled dangerously, taking a step toward the taller man and seeming fully willing to beat him to a pulp if he didn't beat a hasty retreat. I had some mixed feelings about the possibility of watching Charlie naked-wrestle someone who wasn't me, even if it did happen to be his brother...

Throwing his hands up defensively, Bill chuckled, "Fine, fine. Just be sure to make an appearance. Get your strength up, you know?" He winked at me over Charlie's shoulder, adding, "Both of you." With that, he too left, an infuriating bounce in his step and a peppy whistle on his lips.

As soon as everyone was gone, Charlie slammed and relocked the door before falling limply backwards into the bed. I slowly got up from the floor, snuggling up against his side. His arms came around me and we just sat there in silence for the longest time.

"So," Charlie finally said, grinning weakly down at me, "Fifteen minutes... you wanna?"

I couldn't help myself; I burst out laughing.

It was good to have him home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

All together now: AWWWW!!! So sorry this took so long to get out. I had a bit of writer's block with it, which I think I conquered quite nicely. Reviews, as always, are highly encouraged and greatly appreciated ;D


	15. Part 15: Thicker Than Blood

Part 15 - Thicker Than Blood

Life was good.

I had found a treasure trove of Latin spell manuals in the Grimmauld library and was happily devouring them at my leisure.

I had a seemingly endless supply of chocolate, courtesy of the twins, who had recruited Charlie and I to taste test their newest line of adult confections. The results were more than satisfactory and, not that it was entirely due to the candies, my man and I spent long nights and days gleefully exploring every inch of each other's bodies.

One December 17th, 1999, five days before Charlie's birthday, I should have been in a state of absolutely bliss, especially due to the fact that I was cuddling on a cozy couch with said redhead. However, something was wrong...

"I think I might have gotten Tonks pregnant," I announced seriously.

Charlie choked hard on a mouthful of popcorn, coughing for a few long moments before gaping, "What?"

"She's pregnant!" I crowed, briefly glancing around for anyone who might overhear the conversation, "I've caught her throwing up nearly every morning for the last week, and Remus is acting really funny around her. It's like he can smell it."

"Ok," Charlie answered, still sounding very confused, "She might be pregnant. I'll give you that one. But how did _you_ get her that way?" He smirked, running a hand down my thigh as he added, "Last time I looked, you weren't packing any of the necessary equipment and, trust me, my inspections are very thorough."

"Because of the gag and flogger I got my dad for his birthday," I sheepishly replied, squirming under his touch as my hands fidgeting with the frayed hem of his t-shirt, "I meant it as a mean joke, but I think may have just encouraged them."

A brief pause.

And then my wonderful boyfriend laughed right in my face.

I smacked his taught abs. "It's not funny!" I cried, "A kid'll change everything!"

"But you like kids," Charlie reminded me, still laughing as he brushed a kiss against my forehead and hugged me tightly against himself, "And you're great with them. Roo adores you."

Blushing, I answered, "But this is different. It'll be related to me! I'll be a big sister! Well, half-sister..."

"So?" Charlie responded, his arms tightening even more as the big lazy lug closed his eyes and settled in for a nap.

I huffed impatiently, snuggling against him and whining, "I've been an only child my whole life. I don't know how to be anyone's sister."

"It's not the kind of thing you train for," The redhead remarked, "It's more of a roll-with-the-punches sort of job and you're really good at those. Don't worry so much."

I knew he was right but it's not like I could help worrying. The situation seemed so strange. I was going to be a sister and... I couldn't even imagine what the would be like.

"What if Remus likes the new kid better than me?" I asked sheepishly, feeling stupid and immature for even harboring the thought.

"Not possible," Charlie replied with a sleepy grunt, "Remus _loves_ you."

And that was the final word on my irrational fears.

xxXxx

Remus and Tonks made their announcement the next day, but not the one I was expecting.

They were going to get married and had plans to have the ceremony on New Year's Eve.

They took me out to breakfast and told me first, before anyone else, because they wanted to make sure I was really ok with them being together like that.

Surprisingly, I was.

I was excited for them. I did love my dad and I wanted him to be happy, and Tonks wasn't so bad when she wasn't trying to parent me. Everything indicated that their union would be a joyous one at their child would grow up with more love and support than it knew what to do with.

After he found out later that day, Charlie got very quiet and thoughtful, which was troubling. I hoped he wasn't going to do something stupid, like ask me to marry him. I was hopelessly in love with the man but that did not mean I was ready to get married. I was too young and we hadn't know each other very long. It would be absurd.

That night, Charlie slipped into my room under the cover of darkness. I think both of us would have preferred some kind of cohabitation arrangement, but his mother was quite adamant about not wanting to catch us in that kind of situation. She was already pretty scarred from the tales the twins told (ad nauseum) of bursting into my room to find the both of us naked--as well as hurt that Charlie hadn't bothered to tell her that he was home for three whole days--so he and I decided it would be best to just stay under her radar, at least for a little while.

He slid into bed behind me, his chest against my back as his arms wholly enclosing my slim body. He kissed the back of my neck, breathing in deeply as he asked, "Leila?"

"Hmm?" I answered tiredly, content for that moment to just be in his strong embrace.

Fingers drawing curling characters along the smooth expanse of my stomach, Charlie petulantly questioned, "How come I didn't get anything from the sex store?"

I paused for a beat, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. When I was sure I had, I rolled over and peered at him through the darkness. He had the most absolutely heart-melting pout on his handsome, freckled face and I couldn't resist bursting out laughing as I leaned closer to kiss it away. He's such a little boy sometimes, still getting jealous over other people's toys.

"Because I'm saving that for your birthday, hot stuff," I told him, coming up with idea on the spot, my voice sultry and low and my hands beginning to roam, "I was thinking we'd make an excursion of it."

"Ya?" He replied breathlessly, unable to hide just how excited he was as his thick lips stretched into a tantalizing grin.

"Ya," I teased, kissing him and rubbing my legs softly against his, "I'm going to take you over there and let you pick _anything_ you want."

A deep moan bubbled up from his solid chest, his forehead falling into the cradle of my shoulder. "_Anything_?" He repeated, an almost whimpering quality in his deep, rumbling voice.

"_Anything_," I promised silkily.

But a moment later, I shivered and changed my mind. "Well," I added very quietly, "Just... nothing to tie me up with, ok?"

His head snapped up, expression fierce and wanting but so tender that I almost couldn't breathe. "Of course, love," He soothed, brushing hair reverently out of my downcast eyes before bringing my chin up and making me look at him again. After a soft kiss, Charlie stated seriously, "I know you don't like being held down at all. That's nothing to be ashamed of and I'd never try to force you. It's not fun for me if you're not enjoying yourself, too."

I smiled sweetly up at him, threading my fingers through his short hair and tugging lightly. "How did you get to be so bloody perfect?" I teased, pulling him to lie on top of me, his massive body so crushing and good against mine.

"Just lucky, I guess," He answered, already peppering my throat with kisses as he worked to tease my shirt off over my head. "Mmm," He moaned, smiling, his big hands closing possessively around my hips, "Gonna be so hard to chose what I want to do with you."

"Well," I answered breathlessly, "Let's hear some ideas, stud."

He growled against my sternum, moving over me.

"I could dress you up," He suggested lowly.

_kiss. lick._

"Put you in a schoolgirl outfit," He went on, lips hot against my ear, hands _everywhere_, "Play detention."

_squeeze. kiss. moan._

"Or perhaps..." He mused thoughtfully, "A quidditch groupie."

_lick. bite. squeeze._

"A very naughty," He said, "One who has wicked designs about surprising me in the locker room shower after the big game."

_kiss. suck. kiss._

His touch was reverent and loving, and he went on, "Or a sexy little pirate."

"A _pirate_?" I giggled despite myself, throwing my head back against the pillows as he pouted.

"What's wrong with pirates?" He demanded playfully.

I just laughed, grabbing him into a heated kiss to silence his increasingly insane musings.

xxXxx

The next morning, the 19th, I could hardly make Charlie sit through breakfast because he was so utterly excited to be going to the sex shop with me. Of course, we couldn't tell everyone else was why he was excited and the pair of us got some very strange looks all through breakfast.

Especially because the bastard kept gently squeezing my thigh beneath the table and making me spit water all down the front of myself.

He was _so_ going to pay.

Anyways, at a little past ten, we were finally almost out the door, having to sneak out under the radar because of some lingering security paranoia after Percy's warning. None of the Weasley's were supposed to go anywhere without a guard detail, but I figured I was enough guard for just one handsome little dragon tamer.

Charlie was being a complete gentleman and helping me with my coat when Roo came barreling along the entryway towards us.

"Wait!!" She cried out pitifully, "Wait!! I wanna come!!" She came up beside us and jumped up and down and tugged on her uncle's pant leg and pouted straight at him. "Please!! Please!!" The little pixie begged, "I'll be good!! I promise!!"

"Oh, sweetie," Charlie placated, giving her red-gold hair a fond tussle, "Not this time, alright? Leila and I have some grown-up things to do."

"But you gotta let me come!!" Roo complained, getting dangerously close to a full-fledged temper tantrum as her big blue eyes grew wide and glassy, "I'm 'posta be there!!"

I knelt down to her level, giving the girl a tight hug as I soothed, "I'll take you somewhere tomorrow, love. I promise. Today is my special birthday present to your uncle."

"No! No! No!" She cried, shoving me away and stomping her tiny, Mary-Jane-clad feet, "You gotta let me come, or else... or else..."

Frowning, Charlie sternly challenged, "Or else what?"

The toddler glared fiercely up at him, dangerous little fists on her slim hips as she threatened, "Or else I'll tell on you!!"

"What?" Charlie responded, taken aback. He looked at me for some help or clarification but I really had nothing to add. I was just as stunned and confused as he was.

"I'll tell!!" Roo shouted, "You're not 'posta go out unless you got a guard 'cuz of the dark wizards!! Uncle Percy said so!!"

"We're only going to be out for a little while," I argued weakly, "And I'll guard your uncle just fine."

"Ya," Charlie hastily added, a bit panicked now that his outing was in jeopardy, "Me and Leila know how to take care of ourselves."

"No!!" Roo insisted once more, absolutely stubborn in her insistence, "If I can't go, then you can't neither!!"

We were being blackmailed by a two-year-old.

What the fuck?

"Now, sweetheart," Charlie said, also taking a knee beside his niece. Just from the horribly condescending tone of his voice, I knew we were in trouble. "It's not nice to threaten people," He admonished firmly, "And especially not people who are older than you. You have to respect your elders, right?"

Roo answered with a ferocious glare, like the pissed off little wolf cub I knew her to be. She rocked back on her heels, threw her head back, and gave a banshee like shriek of, "_DAAAADDDDDYYYY_!!!!!"

xxXxx

So Roo tattled. She can hardly be blamed, seeing as she was two, but it was still quite a bit inconvenient.

After her ear-bloodying scream, which rivaled those of Mrs. Black on her good days, Bill came sprinting frantically to the front door. The poor man was absolutely distraught at having heard his daughter yell for him so loudly and angrily, and was quite pissed when she pointed straight at Charlie and me and informed him that we were being bad.

We got a rather long speech about how stupid and immature we both were (it was getting close to the moon again so Bill was in a foul mood), as well as how unsafe it was to go out unescorted at a time when some unknown member of the Weasley family was possibly being hunted for sinister purposes. And, no, I was not a good enough guard; there were plenty of people after me as well, not to mention the fact that I was actually still wanted for several hundred counts of murder.

Charlie and I hung our heads and took the berating like sad teenagers who'd just been caught trying to sneak out the window.

Eventually, we managed to talk our way to saving the outing. However, none of the Weasley's were allowed out without a guard so we got Kingsley Shacklebolt, a tall black auror, and Dedalus Diggle, a funny little blonde in a garish violet top hat. Since Charlie and I were getting to go out anyways, Bill decided it would be a good time to run some errands and take his daughter on the walk he'd been promising her for awhile.

We hurried out the door before anymore of the crew could take advantage and tag along; as it was, the twins had already asked us to swing by their shop to take their galleons to the bank for them. They decided to meet us there, however, because Charlie was glaring in an evil kind of way that promised swift and painful retribution should they attempt to hone in on the outing any further.

So we went to Diagon Alley. It was a cold day; we were bundled up against the snow that was threatening in the crisp gray of the sky. But it was a pleasant kind of chill, one that reminded me that Christmas would be coming soon.

I got over the disruption to our plans fairly quickly, but Charlie did not. He sulked the entire walk and he and Roo stuck their tongues out and made faces at each other whenever they thought no one else was watching. It was sort of cute, especially because Charlie was also looking very jealous over the way Roo had both my hands and was leading me back and forth across the sidewalk.

"Roo, sweetie!" Bill called nervously, his eyes darting about for signs of potential danger, "Stay close, alright? Stay where I can see you!"

The little red-gold pixie rolled her eyes, "I know, Daddy! Don't worry! Leila will protect me!"

"Ya, Billy-Boy," I teased, seeing the large man bristle and shoot daggers at his little brother, who was where I happened to have heard the old nickname, "Don't you know by now? Us lycan spawn totally kick arse."

"Keep your voice down," He hissed crankily, trying desperately to hide his scarred face behind his hair and squirming as people gawked at him anyways, "That's not the kind of thing you want to go broadcasting to the world."

I shrugged, chirping, "I'm not ashamed of it and you shouldn't teach your daughter to be."

We made our way down the street, ducking in stores to pick up potions ingredients and candy every now and then. Charlie stared forlornly at the sex shop as we neared it, a nondescript black building on the corner where Knockturn Alley splits off from Diagon, right across from the bank, and it took everything in me not to giggle at him.

We were all set to go into Gringotts for Bill to pick up a few back paychecks he was owed, however, as we were walking past Flourish and Blott's, his daughter bolted out of my grasp and pressed her grubby little face up against the window.

"Look!" She squealed, pointing happily, "They're reading stories! Can we go in, Daddy? Please?"

Bill gave his daughter a fond, placating little grin, stating, "Not today, sweetheart. We don't have the time. I'll read you a story when we get home."

"But I wanna go in there!!" She shouted, her voice taking a drastic spike in decibel levels. Yet another tantrum seemed impending.

"Bill," I said quietly, "I'll take her in, ok? Do you really want to drag her into the bank like this? And, besides, didn't you promise Fred and George you'd stop by their shop first to get their deposit? I _know_ it'll be easier and safer to not have her in there. They'll be trying to give her all kinds of dangerous junk while you're not looking."

He thought about it for a few moments before giving in, "You're right. That probably is a better idea."

"Great," I said, "You boys go off and run your errands, and I'll keep my eye on the half-pint."

"But-" Charlie began to argue, probably that he wanted to stay with me. However, I discretely kicked him in the shin and whispered, "You can pop in to the shop if you're careful."

His freckled face split into a wide grin, despite the fact that he was rubbing his bruised shin, and he chirped, "Oh, ya, great idea, Leila! Let's get going then!"

Roo jumped up and down, clapping her hands as she squealed, "Yay!!" She grabbed me by the hand, dragging me into the store as she waved over her shoulder, "Bye, Daddy! Bye, Uncle Charlie! Bye, Mr. Shacklebolt! Bye, Mr. Diggle! You should be careful and stay together and watch Uncle Charlie 'cuz he's gonna try to be bad! And don't go in the bank 'til you got Uncle Fred and Uncle George's stuff out of their shop! You promised them!"

It was sort of an odd comment, but I didn't have very much time to think about it. I spared Charlie one last smile before being tugged away by his unruly little niece. Looking through the window, I quickly lost sight of them in the crowd as they made their way down to the other end of the alley.

The bookstore was quiet but not silent, filled with the delighted giggles of the small children who were listening to a funny old man reading out of a thick storybook. There were about a dozen little ones, ranging in ages from about five to seven. The store was otherwise fairly empty, as it seemed that most parents had dropped their kids off for the story and then gone to get their own shopping done.

We were just in time because the old man had just finished the previous story and was now moving on to another, a muggle book called _The Last Unicorn_ by Peter Beagle. I settled down on the floor at the back of the crowd of children, crossing my legs in front of myself as Roo flopped down into my lap. The old man's voice was lovely, strong and deep and unhurried.

"_The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of seafoam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea._"

Roo was transfixed by the old man's voice, her bright eyes wide and focused. I smiled, wrapping my arms around her little body and holding her tight as I listened as well.

"_She did not look anything like a horned horse, as unicorns are often pictured, being smaller and cloven-hoofed, possessing that oldest, wildest grace that horses have never had, that deer have only in a shy, thin imitation and goats in dancing mockery. Her neck was long and slender, making her head seem smaller than it was, and the mane that fell almost to the middle of her back was as soft as dandelion fluff and as fine as cirrus. She had pointed ears and thin legs, with feathers of white hair at the ankles; and the long horn above her eyes shone and shivered with its own seashell light even in the deepest midnight. She had killed dragons with it, and healed a king whose poisoned wound would not close, and knocked down ripe chestnuts for bear cubs._"

Going on this description, I carefully took my wand out of my pocket and conjured a bright white, shimmering unicorn that was about the size of a large puppy. I waved her into an easy trot, having her do several laps of us before running up and down the rows of children. They shrieked with laughter and joy. Roo watched her without much reaction, seeming hypnotized. She might have even been holding her breath.

"_Unicorns are immortal. It is their nature to live alone in one place: usually a forest where there is a pool clear enough for them to see themselves--for they are a little vain, knowing themselves to be the most beautiful creatures in the world, and magic besides. They mate very rarely, and no place is more enchanted than where a unicorn has been born. The last time she had seen another unicorn the young virgins who still came seeking her now and then had called her in a different tongue; but then, she had no idea of months and years and centuries, or even of seasons. It was always spring in her forest, because she lived there, and she wandered all day among the great beech trees, keeping watch over the animals that lived in the ground and under bushes, in nests and caves, earths and treetops. Generation after generation, wolves and rabbits alike, they hunted and loved and had children and died, and as the unicorn did none of these things, she never grew tired of watching them._"

The unicorn returned to stand in front of me, rearing back on her hind limbs and kicking at the air.

Her gaze transfixed and her small body shaking, Roo blankly whispered, "Boom."

_BOOM!!!_

A powerful blast rocked the earth beneath us, deafening and so strong that the windows of the bookshop bowed inward and then shattered with an explosion of glimmering shards of glass.

Children were screaming and scrambling for safety. The heavy shelves of books were toppling over from every which way, massive showers of wood and literature as the ceiling too caved in on top of us. I lost control of the magic over the unicorn and, as I was tackling Roo and another little boy seated near us to the floor, as I was shielding them with my body from more attacks and flying glass and falling debris, I saw the unicorn pop into a shower of ivory confetti that dissolved before it could touch the ground.

And then a huge bookcase landed on top of me and all I saw was darkness.

xxXxx

"Where do you think you're going?" Bill growled as he grabbed Charlie by the arm and yanked his little brother back onto the sidewalk.

Scowling, Charlie answered, "Just wanted to run an errand while you're doing the bank stuff." Despite trying to act innocent, he cut his eyes in the direction of the sex shop across the street and totally gave himself away. The poor boy can't tell a lie to save his life.

Bill, of course, saw where he looked and gave a rather feral snarl, giving Charlie an unnecessarily harsh shove to keep walking as he snapped, "So that's what this is all about? You and your ickle girlfriend decided it would be ok to risk your lives for crotchless knickers and nipple clamps? Is the relationship that stale already?"

Charlie whirled around, expression wild and fierce as he shoved his brother right back. "OY! Watch it, William!" He ordered, shorter but far more muscular and more than willing to kick Bill's arse if it came to that. "I'm not going to let you abuse Leila or me just because you're in a twist about the moon!" He growled, "Either act like a fucking human being or don't talk to me until you can!"

Kingsley caught Bill's arm on the backswing, one large hand darting out in a faster-than-sight motion to close around the redhead's wrist and restrain him before he could sock Charlie in the face. "I think we'd better take this conversation inside," He suggested in that low, menacing auror voice of his, the one that lets you know his suggestion wasn't a suggestion at all and you better damn well do exactly what he says unless you want several of your favorite appendages rearranged for you free of charge.

For a few moments, Bill seemed like he might actually try to take on Kingsley and Charlie, as well as Dedalus, who had discretely produced his wand and was eyeing the thick crowd nervously. But, fortunately, he finally let his arm go slack, took a deep, calming breath, and answered, "Ya... ya, fine."

They hoofed it double-time to the twins' shop, where they waved a quick hello to the twins, as well as Lee and Verity, who were helping out with the bustling crowd of holiday shoppers that morning and, according to recent gossip, somewhat of an item themselves. I'd met them both briefly on previous occasions and it seemed like a cute match.

But the procession didn't have time for chitchat; they headed into the back room and shut the door for privacy. Bill leaned against one of the workbenches, his back to the rest of the men and his palms flat on the wood surface and his head hanging low. He was breathing heavily, desperately trying to calm himself down and not having very much luck. It was hard for him to keep his temper in check when it was that close to a full moon and Kingsley and Dedalus seemed to have absolutely no intentions of even attempting to approach him.

But, after a few tense minutes, Charlie came to his brother's side, putting a strong hand on his shoulder and squeezing tightly. "I didn't mean it like it came out," He apologized gruffly, "That human being crack. I didn't mean it like it came out. I don't think that about you, but, Merlin, Bill, you can't say that kind of shite to people. You've got to control yourself."

"You think I'm not trying?" Bill snarled in reply, his arms shaking as he fought the slightly less than rational urge to take a swing at the shorter man's head, "I try so hard and it doesn't make a difference and I can't fucking stand myself!! I don't want to be like this anymore!!"

"I know," Charlie answered, not removing the hand from his brother's shoulder and slowly helping him relax as he kneaded the tense muscles he found there, "Just... look, let's get a pint after the bank, eh? Might be just what the doctor ordered."

Shaking his long hair away from his scarred face, Bill glowered at his brother with hard blue eyes that were filled with threatening tears of frustration. He bitterly laughed, "You really think a fucking pint is going to do me any good? For all you know, it could make things worse! I'm probably a mean drunk!"

Charlie gave a weak grin, joking, "Way I remember, you're a nice musical drunk. Right talented at karaoke, even."

Bill gave him a look of annoyed disbelief that quickly turned into an unwilling smirk.

"Come on," Charlie goaded brightly, giving his brother a playful punch on the arm, "Just us guys. We'll pop in at the Leaky before we go get Leila and Roo from the bookstore. It'll be fun."

"I guess," Bill reluctantly agreed, finally standing up straight and scrubbing one large hand down the entirety of his face, "Ya. Ya, sure."

"Let's go then!" Charlie beamed, quite relieved that he managed to talk his brother out of yet another meltdown, "I'll just run into that sex shop real quick on the way..."

Laughing outright, Bill gave Charlie an affectionate slap upside his head.

I'm told it was a tender moment between the two brothers and, eventually, Kingsley and Dedalus also joined in with happy, relieved chuckles.

And then they heard the blast, felt it throughout their whole bodies as the earth quaked beneath them, as the store shook violently and it became hard to remain standing upright. The contents of shelves and tabletops fell and smashed against the floor; equipment toppled over; a decorative lawn gnome was damaged irreparably.

And then it stopped. And all anyone could hear was the sound of his own breathing and that of the other men. And, for a split second, they were too stunned to move.

That second passed quickly. With Charlie and Bill in a frantic lead, they bolted out from the back room into the street.

They were met by utter chaos and the crippling grip of fear.

xxXxx

I couldn't have been out for very long. I mean, the whole thing happened so very fast that, if you were plotting it all on a timeline, I'd be surprised if you could find a full two minutes to spare on me being unconscious beneath the bookshelf.

"LEILA!!!"

I flew awake to the sound of Roo's terrified shrieks of my name, to the feel of her and the boy squirming beneath me and the bookshelf crushing us from above. I groaned feebly, taking a second to remember what had just happened to me before immediately springing into action.

"Are you two alright?" I questioned urgently, shakily pushing myself up on hands and knees and grunting as I tried to shove the bookshelf off myself, "Are you hurt?" I could hear children crying, but they sounded muffled and far off.

I looked down, finally able to get a good look at the two kids who were trapped beneath me. Roo was wide-eyed and pale, trembling with fear as a small bump on her forehead bled back into her red-gold hair. The boy was older, probably about five or six, with mousy brown curls stuck tight to his skull. His green eyes were wild with panic and pain; his left arm was crushed between two other shelves, contorted at a grotesque angle as a long spear of bone stood out of a bloody hole in what looked to be a handmade gray sweater.

Struggling against sore and injured muscles, I gave a gigantic heave and managed to throw off the immense oak structure, exposing us to air and light once again. I quickly found my wand and levitated more shelves away, levitating the one off the boy's arm and quickly setting and splinting it before he could even manage a scream. I picked Roo up off the ground, cradling her in one arm as I took the little boy's uninjured hand with the other and surveyed the warzone around us.

I finally saw the crying children, poor little souls with arms or legs or whole torsos crushed under the weight of the piles of fallen shelves and huge chunks of stone from the ceiling. The far right wall had mostly collapsed as well.

Behind me, towards the broken windows that looked out over the street, there was green light. I glanced over my shoulder.

It was a Death Eater attack, I knew right away. But, more than that, I could see Moros, the really twisted followers, also in their midst; they must have had a recruitment drive to boost their numbers after I was done with my eradication because there were hundreds. The street was nothing but an absurd masquerade of skeleton figures chasing and fighting and executing random passersby, of men with black bandanas around the lower halves of their faces seizing the even less fortunate souls and torturing, raping, mutilating them right there in among the wreckage of the alley.

For a split second, I couldn't breathe.

But that second passed quickly. I had a room full of scared and injured children to protect. Running as fast as I could over the rubble, I put Roo and the boy down near the back of the store, hiding them both behind a desk and instructing, "I want you to stay right here until I come and get you, alright?" I got feeble, fearful nods and then I was off.

I moved with an unearthly kind of speed, staying low as I sprinted around gathering the children, freeing them and healing them as best I could before sending them to the back of the store one by one to await further instruction from me. They were all so brave, trying hard to keep their sobs and sniffles quiet as the firefight raged just on the other side of the broken windows.

The old man was dead, as was a pretty blonde clerk who looked to be in her late twenties--the far left wall had fallen in on them--and... and one little girl whose chest was completely flattened underneath a piece of stone fallen from the ceiling. Her little sister was seated beside her, wailing and inconsolable.

"Come on, sweetheart," I stated as I closed my arms around her frail frame, trying to remain quiet and very aware that we were not quite five feet from two Moros and a street that was glowing poison green. "Come on," I soothed, "We're going to go to the back, where we'll be safe."

"NO!!" She screamed hysterically, clinging to her sister's bloody hand, "NO!! You have to help her!! Sally, wake up!! Please, wake up!!"

"Shh!!" I hissed, clapping my hand over her mouth and forcibly pulling her away. However, it was too late; the Moros turned and saw us. Their smiles of twisted glee were concealed behind black bandanas but I could see the excitement in their cruel eyes.

I didn't hesitate; I whipped out my wand, pointed it straight at them, and shouted, "_ATROCITAS_!!" A wall of crimson red blasted them about ten feet back, left them lying in a pool of their own blood and brain matter and charred skin as they fought futilely for the last moments of their pitiful lives. It gave me just enough time to sprint to the back of the shop, to herd the children into the store room before the rest of the forces caught on and swarmed our location. I saw the first angry Moro climbing in through the broken out windows just as I gathered up the last child and slammed the door shut.

Seconds later, despite as many wards as I could cast in the short span, the Moros and Death Eaters were already breaking through. The structure was weak to begin with and not many wards that can be done in just a few seconds will last very long or stand up to the kind of abuse mine were getting from outside. I was in a complete panic, my attention bouncing between the huddled group of a dozen or so small, crying children and the door that was about to get kicked in despite my best efforts. There was no time.

There was no time.

If the Moros got through, more children were going to die. There was no way I could fight them off, no way I could protect the kids and myself from the coming wave of barbarity and I was getting nauseas at just the thought of what those bastards would do...

I had to think.

Think.

_Think! Think! Think!_

"Leila!" Roo wailed, her face smudged with dirt and her blood still dripping from the minor bump on her head as she pleaded at me for some kind of guidance, some kind of reassurance that we were going to be ok, that we were going to get through this and be home in time for supper.

The idea came to me in a flash.

I threw up more wards, enough to hold the splintering door for the few desperate minutes I would need, and I commanded, "All of you, group together!"

By the time I turned back around, the children had formed a dutiful mass of whimpering, sobbing, bleeding flesh. I got to work as quickly as possible, swiping my hand through the blood on Roo's head and drawing a hurried, lopsided circle on the ground around them. They watched with an almost detached fascination, breath coming in pitiful gasps.

A loud crash from outside barely penetrated my mind as I wiped away more of Roo's blood, using it to draw hieroglyphs all around the outside of the circle as I chanted an ancient curse. The seconds ticked by like hours.

And then it was done, and I beckoned Roo forward, drawing an instruction for Bill if (hopefully when) he showed on her forehead and somberly ordering, "I want you to close your eyes, love." I glanced around at the rest of the children, adding, "All of you! Close your eyes and do not open them no matter what you hear!! Nobody can hurt you, so don't listen to anything they say or anything that might happen!!"

Roo nodded, tears streaming out of her big blue eyes and streaking her dusty cheeks with lines of ginger flecked porcelain. I didn't have to utter it and neither did she but it felt like we were saying goodbye.

I stepped out of the circle and drew the final symbol on the floor, chanting the last piece of the curse that would seal the children into safety just in time for the door to come bursting off its hinges.

I turned to face my enemy, ducking and shooting off curses as the ones that got past me bounced harmlessly off the large transparent dome that was now shielding the children. As soon as I was absolutely certain it would hold (not that there was every any doubt because my magic is always perfect), I could focus my full attention on the waves after waves of Moros and Death Eaters who were pushing through the door.

I was far outnumbered, lacking in both man and firepower, but the bottleneck the door provided evened the odds slightly, helped me thin out the forces as they were coming in. The fact that the dead bodies started to choke up their entry point was an added bonus.

For a few minutes, I was doing alright. I'd managed to not get hit and to keep the evil arseholes mostly back behind the doorway.

But it couldn't last. All of sudden, three curses were coming towards me at once, two _Avada Kedavra_s and a powerful stunner. There was no way to avoid all of them and the choice was fairly obvious: I let the stunner hit me in the thigh as I twisted by body out of the way of the two bolts of green.

I crumpled to the ground, screaming in pain because it was not a stunner. No, it was a _Crucio_ (they're about the same color as stunners, you know) that not only took away use of my leg, it also set every nerve inside on fire, my thigh muscles seizing with excruciating cramps. It felt like my leg was filled with concrete and rubbing alcohol and rusty nails.

Still, I wouldn't let that be the end; I'm nothing if not a fighter. The shrieks and battle cries were leaving my mouth without conscious thought, my wand arm growing heavy and sore as I pushed harder and harder and kept the curses coming. I had to have taken down at least twenty by that point, dragging my hurt leg as I crouched down behind a damaged crate of spell books in order to catch my breath.

That's when they knocked down the wall, when they swarmed the room and all hope was lost.

xxXxx

"GEORGE!!!"

The others were trapped at the far end of the street, trying to make their way through the firefight going on around them, as well as get past the large pile of rubble where the front of Gringotts once stood.

"CHARLIE!! ON YOUR RIGHT!!"

The Death Eaters set off some kind of massive explosive and it leveled a good chunk of the exceedingly strong bank structure, as well as most of the stores in a hundred feet in every direction from it.

The sex shop and everyone in it was incinerated almost instantly.

"LOOK OUT, FRED!!"

The far end of the alley didn't have nearly as many casualties from the fight. Far fewer Death Eaters were on that end to begin with, plus, as soon as they figured out what was going on, Fred and George brought their entire stock of shield charm clothing out of the store room and started handing it out to people who were dueling. They also offered their shop as shelter for those who were hurt or just too scared. Aside from Gringotts, which was fairly uninhabitable at the time, theirs was the most heavily-fortified establishment on the entire alley.

"BILL!! HOLY BLOODY FUCK!!"

Anyone who attempted to stand in between William Weasley on his quest to recover his baby daughter got to learn first hand just how utterly and terrifyingly vicious he could be. I saw a few of the bodies of the men he maimed and it is a sight that will probably haunt me forever.

The good guys were winning on the far side of the alley, but they had yet to make it past the bank wreckage, they had yet to see any sign of me or Roo and they fought desperately, with their hearts in their throats, to make it to us in time.

xxXxx

They were on me in an instant, thirty, maybe forty of them, all swarming at once. I punched and kicked and screamed off curses and held out for as long as I could, but there were just so goddamn many of them that I didn't last very long. It's probably only due to the fact that they were mostly Moros that they didn't just A.K. me right there; they wanted to toy with me for a bit.

It's probably also lucky that they started beating me right away. My face was too bloody and mangled to be recognized within just a few moments. That was good; I could be just another faceless victim to them; if they discovered who I was I would have had it far, far worse.

The first minutes are still a blur of brief flashes of sensation.

Bodies smothering mine to the floor, pinning me so tight I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Fists flying towards my face, sickening cracks as flesh met flesh and bone and my skull whipped back against the stones beneath it with every single blow.

Screaming and swearing, choking up blood as more fists, heavy boots pummeled and stomped my stomach.

Fingernails scratching and shredding my skin as they fought to tear clothing from my body.

Cruel laughs hanging in the air above me.

"Stop," One smooth voice was all it took for them to get off me, to leave me in a shivering, broken and stunned mess on the floor. I barely had time to gasp for air before I heard the voice order, "Tie her up and regroup. Aurors have gotten through at the far side and they'll be past the Gringotts wreckage in a few minutes."

"That's impossible!" Another crowed. As I was being turned onto my stomach, as my hands were being contorted and bound painfully behind my back, I forced open one swollen eye and saw that it was a pair of Moros speaking. The second added, "We sealed all the floos and the Leaky Cauldron! How in Merlin's name could they get through?"

"Those fucking Weasley brothers," The first snarled.

I bit back a laugh, mentally cheering for whichever of my favorite redheads was responsible for this welcomed and resounding fuck-you to the Dark Lord's plans.

"The floo connection in their shop is international," The first Moro spat, pacing quite furiously, "It's registered in Greece, so we overlooked it when we were shutting the rest down and now it's open and they're ferrying aurors through as we speak! Damnit!!"

I, unfortunately, got to take the brunt of his anger. After all, who better to kick in the temple when you're feeling frustrated than a tied up hostage?

My vision faded out and back in and I found myself thrown carelessly into a corner, still tied and aching all over. My head felt funny, overfilled and like I was lilting to the left, but I was lucid enough to look around a bit. I found that the Moros, along with a few Death Eaters thrown in the mix were preparing for a siege, erecting shields and readying piles of volatile projectiles. They still hadn't really tried to get through the shield around the children, I would have know immediately if they had, but there were a few milling about the translucent blue dome, jabbing at it with their wands and cruelly taunting the whimpering little creatures inside--all the kids still had their eyes squeezed tightly shut but I'd neglected to tell them to cover their ears as well; I kicked myself for the oversight.

"HEY!!" I barked angrily, struggling to shove myself upright, slightly afraid of the way the world seemed to whirl around my head, "Get the fuck away from them, you worthless pack of inbred morons!!"

That got their attentions.

"Ooo," One of them growled, stepping towards me as the others hung back, as they laughed in anticipation of the violence I'd just brought on myself, "Seems like we've got a feisty little bitch right here. I do like the feisty ones. They're ever so much fun to break."

"Janus," The Moro from before snapped; I think he was probably the leader, "Leave the whore alone and get to work!! The aurors will be here before long and we need to be prepared to hold our position until we can figure out an exit strategy!!"

Janus pouted behind his black bandana, darting out to seize me roughly by the hair as he whined, "But did you hear what the little bitch said? Can't we teach her a lesson while we're waiting?" He reached down to pointedly and painfully squeeze my breast as he added, "Come on, Marek, tearing her sweet young body in two will be just what we need to raise our spirits for battle."

"That won't help you, Janus," I challenged boldly, not sounding anywhere near as brave as I would've liked since my voice was a strained rasp. "You're already dead and you don't even know it," I told him smugly, "Taking two minutes to toss your rocks off on me isn't going to save you and I'll die laughing at your pitiful excuse for a cock."

"Fucking BITCH!!" He snarled, yanking fiercely on his handful of my hair, so hard that my neck felt like it was going to snap as he shoved my face against his crotch, "Open up, sweetheart, and I'll teach you the only thing that fat fucking mouth of yours is good for!!"

I took the opportunity to sink my teeth into the hot flesh I could feel just beneath his long black robes.

Janus screamed, seizing in pain and trying like hell to shove me away, tearing at my hair, punching me in the head, kicking my legs as his own knees gave out. I locked my jaw, biting down as hard as I could and not letting go.

A vicious kick to the stomach, high, right beneath my ribcage, managed to finally make me release. I couldn't breathe and felt like I was going to die, my mouth filled and face streaked with blood that wasn't entirely mine anymore. Just that thought alone helped me hang on.

"Prop her up," I heard the one named Marek order just before I found myself being forced roughly from the floor. My hands were still bound and I still couldn't get the room to stop spinning or an adequate amount of air to enter my lungs, but I managed to look up, to look Marek straight in the eyes.

One was blue, the other brown.

"Marek Brayshaw," I accused gruffly, gasping for breath and weakly fighting against the hands that were holding me up--they were groping more than holding up and it didn't help that most of my shirt had been shredded away at some point.

The Moro was stunned for a brief moment, reeling back as the surprise showed through those unusual eyes of his, his father's eyes. I should know; I was the one who mutilated his father eyes; I tore the man's eyelids off with a pair of pliers before I threw him off a building.

"Tell your daddy I said hello," I teased evilly, smirking as I remembered the state I'd left him in; paralyzed and with the distinct knowledge that I'd be back to torture him yet again someday.

And the next thing I knew I was on the ground once more, reeling from Marek's vicious punch to the head and struggling to remain conscious.

"My father is _dead_, you stupid fucking twit," He spat, probably making some sign for the men who were holding me to pick me up because I found myself being forced back into a sitting position. Marek was pacing again, though this time his furious glare never left mine. After only a few moments, he came to stand in front of me again, kneeling and producing a gleaming knife and slowly pressing it into my neck as he stated, "He bit off his own tongue three months ago and let himself drown in the blood. What do you know about that?"

"Not much," I answered coolly, not even wincing as the blade glided through layers of tissue, "Just that it's probably the only good thing he ever did with his pathetic life. Merlin knows you're not exactly a prize."

His mismatched eyes gave a volatile flash.

For a moment, I was absolutely sure he was going to slit my throat.

And then he was laughing, the sound harsh and chilling. He pulled the knife back and stood, looking at Janus, who was crumbled up in a corner and crying as he held the bloody mess that used to reside between his legs, and then to the men who were holding me down. "I think our brother was right," Marek declared, smirking as Janus gave an audible whimper, "What better way to greet the aurors than with the sounds this whore is going to make while we shred her alive from every tight little hole she's got." He turned his smirk on me, hoping for some show of fear.

I gave him none.

"Pick her up," Marek ordered, "I want her naked and hanging from the ceiling by her wrists... oh, and do remember to muzzle the bitch. Don't want any unfortunate repeats while I'm having my fun."

The crowd of Moros laughed gleefully, high and excited and practically salivating. The few Death Eaters who were present actually looked a bit squeamish; Moro barbarity is infamous and not for the weak of heart or stomach.

And then I was on my feet, my right shoulder nearly popping out of its socket as they dragged me, ruthlessly slicing both my clothes and flesh in their hurried to have me bare, eagerly drinking in the sight of skin and blood.

And then Marek made his mistake.

"And those brats, too," He said, giving me a smug, victorious grin, "Get them out of the bitch's little bubble and pass them around. Do what you will with them, men. Consider it an early bonus to tide you over until we get out of this shithole."

Another hearty cheer went up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Moros who had been guarding the children pull out their wands and begin trying to break my curse.

Though it was hard with my mouth so tender and bloody and bruised, I smiled.

And then I heard it, right before the first one raised his wand. "Hey," He observed, "Isn't that little redhead the Weasley whelp we're all supposed to be on the look out for? Dibs! There's a reward for her!"

I couldn't breathe.

But there was no time. I quickly whirled around and charged one of my captors straight in the gut. He fell to the floor just in time for me to break away and dive for cover.

And then all I remember is the feel of the blast hitting, like a solid brick wall slamming me to the floor.

xxXxx

At the feel of a second earthshaking tremor, the auror squadron grew silent and grim.

For a few seconds.

And then it was straight back to planning their attack on the bookstore.

After aurors started emerging from Fred and George's shop, the battle quickly turned in our favor. They made it past the Gringotts wreckage and took down as many of the Dark Lord's followers as they could.

Seeing that they were outnumbered, the smart Moros and Death Eaters ran to get outside the anti-apparition field and were gone without a trace.

The not so smart ones stayed and were all eventually killed or captured.

The prize-winning morons of the bunch had barricaded themselves inside Flourish and Blott's; they had no option of escape or surrender.

And Bill and Charlie Weasley were trying hysterically to shove past the aurors, to run to our rescue.

"Just stay back!!" Kingsley ordered impatiently, growing very frustrated by the two eldest Weasley brothers and their complete unwillingness to let him do his damn job, "There's nothing you can do for them now!! Just be patient and hope for the best!!"

"LIKE BLOODY HELL I WILL!!" Bill screamed, frothing at the mouth and being held back, just barely, by three very strong young aurors, "MY DAUGHTER IS IN THERE!!"

"Take it easy," Dedalus attempted to soothe, most of his head wrapped up in a blood-stained bandage as he sadly fidgeted with what was left of his thoroughly-scorched violet top hat, "We all want them out, too, but you have to let the aurors do their jobs."

It was the smartest and most rational sentence the man had ever said aloud and I fucking missed it!!

"FUCK THE AURORS!!" Charlie snarled, just barely avoiding a restraint detail of his own, though dangerously close to one--three aurors were loitering anxiously around him as he paced and anxiously clenched and unclenched his fists. "We have to get in there!!" He yelled, voice growing just the tiniest bit choked as he fought back thoughts about what might be happening to Roo and me, "We have to get them out!!"

"Which is exactly what we're trying to do," Kingsley placated, "We're trained for this. I know it's hard, but let us do our jobs. We'll be ready to launch our assault in just a few minutes and it'll be much sooner if I can get back to my work."

Looking suddenly ashamed, though no less frantic, Bill lessened his efforts to get out of the grips of his captors. After just a brief moment, he pleaded, "Let me go in with you!"

"You know I can't do that," Kingsley responded, his voice low, "It's against regulations."

"Fuck regulations!" Bill responded angrily, "You know I'm more than qualified and you could use the wand!"

Kingsley sighed deeply, rolling his dark eyes skyward. "Will it shut you up?" He challenged impatiently.

Bill gave an enthusiastic nod.

"Fine," The auror agreed, "But you'll be with the rear squadron. And don't blame me if you get killed."

"What about me?" Charlie whined, "I'm coming, too!!"

"No!" Kingsley growled, finally losing his temper, grabbing Bill and stomping off. "This man is not to get near the building," He instructed the aurors who were guarding the redhead, "I've got enough to worry about without one more civilian butting his way into my operation."

That's when Charlie snapped and surged forward and the three aurors finally had to physically restrain him.

The first wave of aurors entered the bookstore just five minutes later, wands out and eyes wary of every bit of perceived motion.

There were no enemies or survivors in the front of the building. As soon as it was clear, they progressed towards the backroom.

They found rubble and wreckage. They found piles of dead bodies that looked like they'd all been mashed with sledgehammers against the blood stained walls. They found a dozen scared, crying children standing inside a translucent blue shield and squeezing their eyes shut tight.

Kingsley glanced about, fairly stunned at the scene, and gruffly blurted out, "What the bloody fuck?"

Bill had already disobeyed direct orders and shoved his way to the head of the group, rushing frantically through, just about flipping out when he saw all the blood; he'd smelled it from the front room and almost gotten sick with worry for his baby.

But he saw her in an instant, safely enclosed inside my shield, her eyes shut tight, bloody hieroglyphs written across her pale forehead.

"ROO!" He yelled, immediately falling to his knees just outside the ring, his eyes seeing but not quite registering my message yet, "Arielle! Angel, it's Daddy! Are you hurt, love? Can you hear me?"

She heard him--I would have put up a silencer, Merlin knows it wanted to, but it would have interfered with the protective curse; the thing was volatile enough as it was--but she didn't say a word, whimpering in fear. Years later, she told me that she was afraid to open her eyes because I'd told her not to, that she thought the bad men had just made themselves sound like her daddy to trick her into looking when she wasn't supposed to.

Nearly hysterical yet again, Bill finally read the symbols on her forehead. "_Ineb mes-en senef_," He recited aloud, the Egyptian language at home on his tongue, "_Sma it em sat em senef_... wall born of blood. Unite father with daughter with blood..."

He calmed down enough to really get a good look at the curse I'd used, his blue eyes going wide and his hand darting out to still one of the auror's wands just before the young woman could make an attempt to get through my shield. "WAIT!!" Bill cried urgently, "Nobody touch it!!"

"I thought I told you to stay at the rear," Kingsley growled over his shoulder, still methodically searching the wreckage for survivors, for, more realistically, signs of my dead, mutilated body.

Scowling, Bill replied, "Well it's a damn good thing I didn't!! Leila set a booby trap!!"

Everyone froze in place.

"What?" Kingsley gaped, rather unsure of how to react to that.

"This is a blood curse that was used to guard the treasure rooms in Egyptian palaces and tombs," Bill explained, going back to carefully reading the hieroglyphics on the floor, as well as the instructional ones on his daughter's forehead, "It's an ancient booby trap. Using any magic in an attempt to get through causes it to explode outwards, killing or maiming anyone nearby while protecting everything within. That's probably what happened to all the Moros."

One look at the piles of mangled corpses and the aurors had to agree.

Carefully crossing the room to kneel at Bill's side, Kingsley quietly asked, "Can you break it without setting it off again?"

"I think so," Bill answered, scar tissue pulled tight as he frowned in concentration, once again muttering my instructions to himself as he tried to interpret their meaning, "_Ineb mes-en senef_._ Sma it em sat em senef_... Wall born of blood. Unite father with daughter with blood..."

And then he understood.

"Someone give me a knife!" He ordered, unable to tear his gaze away from his frightened child. He had what he asked for in just a brief moment and did not hesitate to slice open his left palm. Without flinching, he held it over the shield and let his blood drip down. When the first drops of thick red hit it, the translucent blue melted away.

"Baby," He breathed, immediately seizing his daughter up from the floor and crushing her against his chest, "Thank Merlin."

Roo began to scream, refusing to open her eyes, kicking and punching and shrieking at the top of her little lungs. The poor thing was out of her mind with terror.

"Love, it's Daddy," Bill soothed, squeezing the girl tight and showing no intentions of letting her go any time in the foreseeable future, "It's Daddy. I've got you. You're safe now. I promise. Open your eyes, baby."

"No," The little girl whined, her efforts to get free slowly stilling as she began to recognize her daddy's hug, "Not real. Trying to trick me. Leila said no."

"The bad men are gone now," Bill answered, burying his face in his daughter's impossibly soft hair and inhaling her scent in an attempt to calm himself down; the both of them were crying and shaking uncontrollably, and Bill continuing to soothe, "I promise you're safe. It's Daddy, love. I'm here."

"No, no, no," Roo sobbed even as she threw her little arms around his neck and held on for all she was worth, hiding her face against Bill's solid chest, "I won't look. Daddy, I wanna go home!!"

"Yes, baby," Bill breathed, in a daze of utter relief as he got to his feet and carried his daughter out of there.

It took him another two hours to convince the girl to open her eyes but I'm glad. I don't know what the hell he was thinking telling her to open them while they were still surrounded by dead bodies.

Honestly, those Weasley men have absolutely no sense sometimes.

The other children reacted in much the same way as they were picked up by aurors and carried outside. The little boy I shielded from the original blast--I found out later his name was Adam--kicked and screamed and punched like wild, eventually blacking the eye of the auror who was holding him. The girl who lost her sister--her name was Diana--couldn't stop sobbing.

The aurors found me buried underneath the remains of the crate of thick spell books I'd take cover behind; they were the only reason I survived the explosion. I was scorched and beaten, cut up and broken all over, but I had a pulse. And that was something. That was hope.

"Get a medic!" Kingsley ordered gruffly, covering my nearly naked body with his cloak before kneeling at my side, taking one of my small hands in his as my eyes flickered deliriously. "Hang on, kid," He told me, even though I don't remember it at all, even though I'd lost so much blood and he hardly recognized me at all, "You're going to be alright."

"Roo..." I forced between split lips and red stained teeth, "Cha-Charlie..."

Kingsley squeezed my hand, "They're both fine. Don't try to talk."

My eyes slid shut; my arm went completely limp; my breathing stopped.

"MEDIC!!" Kingsley bellowed, "I NEED A MEDIC RIGHT NOW!!!"

xxXxx

Charlie told me once that waiting outside, waiting to hear if Roo and I were dead or alive was like having his face held over a vat of acid, having no choice but to suck in the noxious fumes. Despite the cold, despite the light snow that had begun to fall, every next breath felt as if it was scorching his lungs. No matter how many breaths he took, he couldn't seem to get nearly enough oxygen to make the nausea or dizziness of the moment go away.

Fred and George had finally appeared; they'd been searching for survivors and reuniting families and excavating the dead; they were filthy and tired, shaking with exhaustion and cold in their bloodstained t-shirts. The twins stood on either side of Charlie and did what they could to calm and comfort him, which wasn't much but at least they were there.

A lifetime later, Bill emerged from the bookstore in a daze, smothering his bawling daughter fiercely against his chest. Charlie bolted to meet him, followed close behind by the twins.

Bill didn't seem to recognize his own brothers, snarling dangerously at them as they approached, like a feral wolf, his arms tightening impossibly around Roo's trembling little body.

They all stopped in their tracks. "Bill," Charlie was the first to speak, his critical gaze taking in the blood on Roo's forehead, from both the bump and my writing, "Bill, it's just us. It's Charlie and Fred and George. Is Roo alright?"

Tears still shining on his cheeks, his gaze skittish and disassociated, Bill managed a brief nod.

"What about Leila?" Charlie demanded urgently, thrilled that his niece was safe but still anxious about me. He was suddenly very aware of aurors carrying screaming, struggling children out of the building. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but decided quickly that it _had_ to be a good sign...

Right?

"I-I," Bill made a strangled attempt at speech. Unfortunately, he was stunned and choked up and it didn't come out all that rationally, "S-She... curse..."

Charlie barely resisted the very unwise urge to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake and scream at him until he became coherent.

And then the magical medical emergency personnel went rushing into the building.

He froze right where he stood, pulse pounding loudly in his ears.

It all felt so surreal.

And then the magical medical emergency personnel went rushing out of the building.

It _couldn't_ be real.

That wasn't my body on the stretcher.

That mass of crusted blood and broken bones and scorched skin couldn't possibly be all that was left of Leila Kione.

And the hand he somehow found in his own--And where was he? What was happening? Where was he going? Why was I laying on a stretcher? Why was he running alongside? Why wouldn't I open my eyes when he screamed my name?--couldn't be my hand; it was limp and cold and one of the things he loved about me was the fact that my hands were always always always warm.

Charlie refused to believe the words he was hearing--"massive blood loss," "severe internal injuries," "devastating cranial trauma," "little chance of survival"--because none of it was real.

None of it.

It just couldn't be.

The only feature of that moment Charlie's brain would accept as reality was the far-off phrase: "Merlin, what a hero."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There it is folks. Hope you liked it! I'm back at school now and classes have started. I'm pretty excited that I got in to all the ones I wanted but it is a lot of reading and writing and tests and junk like that. Don't expect too much from me but I will do my best to update as often as possible.

I do not own _The Last Unicorn_. That is Mr. Beagle's.

The Egyptian used I just got off a website. Sorry if it's completely wrong.

Every review helps to patch the hole in the ozone layer with happy thoughts.


	16. Part 16: A NotSoHappy Birthday

Part 16 - A Not-So-Happy Birthday

Charlie's twenty-seventh birthday, December 22nd, 1999, was the worst one of his entire life. It was sad, too, because it had been so promising; it had almost been the best.

It was actually the very first birthday he ever had a girlfriend for and he'd been really looking forward to all of what such a thing would entail, namely getting spoiled rotten and serviced sexually (not that he didn't get those from me on a daily basis anyways, the greedy bastard).

But therein lay the problem: it was Charlie's birthday and I was unconscious, barely hanging on to life. Spoiling seemed unlikely and any sex would have been... entirely one-sided and astoundingly creepy.

He's glaring at me; he hates when I make that joke; he still can't get over that day, and the ones leading up to it, and the ones that were to follow.

So I guess I should quell my inappropriate (though highly witty and thoroughly entertaining) commentary and get on with the story.

The Diagon attack was late in the morning on December 19th, 1999; Death Eaters and Moros detonated a powerful magic bomb and leveled most of the mid-street shops, not to mention a good chunk of Gringotts. The Magical Menagerie, Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, Nyx's Naughty Niceties (the sex shop, unfortunately), and a number of other smaller stores and everyone in them at the time were incinerated in an instant. After the blast, the Dark Lord's followers wreaked their unbridled havoc and pain on whomever they could grab.

The death toll was high. It had been a crowded shopping day not very long before Christmas and the alley was packed. The final body count is 512 people, men, women, and children all included.

For a day or so, that count hovered expectantly as everyone waited for news of my fate, for whether or not I would make it 513.

Back to Charlie.

Aside from the few hours he was physically forced from the room while the healers worked to bring me back from the dead and do their best to sustain my continued life, he hadn't left my side. He sat in a chair next to my bed, holding my hand and refusing to leave.

Six hours turned to sixteen, sixteen to twenty-six, twenty-six to thirty-six, and all of a sudden thirty-six was closing in on seventy-six. I was still hanging on but... the prognosis wasn't good.

What was left of my skin was a mass of bruises and gashes and burns; my hair had been singed to just above my shoulders. Most of my ribs had been broken, as had my right arm and knee and my left ankle; my right shoulder was badly dislocated. I'd suffered a collapsed lung, a ruptured spleen, and a massive amount of internal bleeding; my nose and my right cheekbone had been smashed. Injuries to my brain--getting kicked in the head more times than I actually remember--caused a massive bleed there as well that, while the good folks at St. Mungo's were able to quickly repair, had already put a lot of pressure on my brain; I'd been without oxygen for some time and it was unsure whether or not I was going to wake up at all.

As I moved through my third full day of unconsciousness and into the fourth, it was seeming more and more unlikely.

And, still, Charlie stayed by my bedside, brushing off all attempts at getting him to leave, to eat, to sleep, to shower--the twins were quite insistent about that one since he was still sweaty and grimy and bloody from the battle; they were only half trying to lighten the mood--or to basically do anything at all that would take him more than an arm's length away from me.

Remus was there for a lot of the time as well, but the full moon was the 20th; he and Bill and Roo--who was good as new and constantly badgering her daddy for news about me--had to return to Grimmauld for a few days to deal with their various lunar afflictions.

And Charlie stayed, holding my scraped hand and speaking softly into my ear in an effort to coax me back into wakefulness. He talked nonstop, until his mouth was dry and his throat was completely hoarse.

"Charlie?" One of the twins interrupted that day at around 3 o'clock in the afternoon with a tentative hand on his shoulder, "You want some coffee, mate?"

Because of Percy's warning that the Dark Lord was after a member of the Weasley family, they'd decided that it would be best if not many of them congregated so openly. Since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were taking care of the lycans, and Ron and Ginny were deemed to be too young, the twins elected to stay and keep an eye on their big brother.

Peering blearily at the pair of identical redheads standing beside him, Charlie answered with his voice barely above a whisper, "Ya. Thanks. Coffee would be great."

"Sure," The one on the right--he really didn't possess the amount of brain power that would have been needed to even make a guess at which was which--stated kindly, "Anything else? How about a sandwich?"

"Not hungry," Charlie gruffly replied, turning his back on them and cringing when his eyes fell onto me again; every time he looked at me he cringed and prayed with all his heart that I'd just open my eyes.

"Alright," The other twin said, "Well, we'll go down to the cafeteria and see what we can scrounge up. Maybe you'll get an appetite if you smell something good, eh?"

Charlie's head was drooping but he hid it with a shrug of his shoulders and a noncommittal grunt, taking my hand again and holding my raw knuckles to his lips. He listened to the twins leave and when the door shut behind them, he put his head down on the bed near my shoulder.

His eyes throbbed, he was so tired, and it was taking so much energy to stay awake. But he had to, had to keep awake and talking and bring me back. "I remember the first time I saw you," He stated softly, voice the soft rumble of a man stripped bare. He turned his face against what was left of my hair and tried to breathe in my scent. That always calmed him, made him happy, but it wasn't working; all he could smell was smoke and blood and melted keratin.

"It was early in the morning and I'd just gotten back from a long assignment," Charlie continued, his blunt, rough fingers tracing nonsense on my palm, "The house was quiet and dark and I wanted to fall into bed and sleep for a few days. But I went into the kitchen first, for some food, and I saw you out the window..."

His throat was tight and it was hard to keep going, but he did. "I saw you," He said, "Lying on your back on that crumbling stone bench underneath the big willow. It was still dark so you were just this... shape, just shadow and lines and something magnetic I couldn't tear my eyes away from. And then the sun came up, blew fire over the horizon and there you were, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Your hair was down, spilling out all over the stone and lit up like gold. You were wearing these... amazing little denim shorts and I could see the strength in those gorgeous legs of yours. I could see your stomach where your t-shirt had ridden up. You were a little on the skinny side back then, love, but Mum never lets anyone stay that way for long and I like you much better healthy... and your lips, oh, Merlin, your lips. Full and red with the sunrise and wrapped around a black cigarette..."

Charlie closed his eyes. They stung so badly and tears were welling up again; he was getting so tired and it was so hard to hold them back any longer. "I thought I was dreaming," He went on, mumbling, his lips moving against my neck as he held the image in his mind.

"I pinched myself, you know," The redheaded laughed tiredly, "Pretty hard, and I didn't wake up and you didn't go anywhere and I thought to myself, 'Sweet Circe, she's real... I hope I've got half a chance with her...' I bounded outside like some lovesick teenager, more excited than I'd been in months over just the prospect of finding out your name..."

He tried again to swallow down the lump high in his throat before continuing, "You were on your last cigarette by the time I got out there, trying to light it while you glared at the empty box. I guess you heard me coming because you sat up, all wobbly. I said hello and asked you what you were doing outside all by yourself. I couldn't really think of anything better." He smiled against my neck, "You shot back some smart arse reply, asking what did it look like? Then you tried to take a pull of firewhiskey right out of the bottle and I had to admire you for that. Gotta love a girl who can drink... but the bottle was already empty and you got angry and threw it at that knock-off Venus statue. You almost took a header into the ground in the process, but I managed to catch you and... you felt so good in my arms. I wanted to keep you there forever... but you threw me right off before I could really enjoy myself and kept trying to light your last cigarette. You were no where near as sweet as you looked, but... you were still beautiful and passionate and intriguing. I could see the anger and pain you were holding, and they just made me want to get closer to you, to... to figure out why you were hurting so badly and make you happy again because I suspected there was a lot of good in you..."

He gave a tired groan, a shiver of exhaustion racing through his tense frame as he struggled to stay awake. "I guess the real point of the story is the end," Charlie murmured, carefully lacing his fingers with mine, "You called me hot stuff and passed out in my arms while I was carrying you back inside. I didn't want to leave you on the couch. My mum would have been pissed. So I took you upstairs to my room and tucked you into my bed... I was going to kip on the floor but... but you were shivering like crazy and whimpering, probably having a bad dream... I crawled in with you, wrapped my arms around you... your skin was ice, but, love, you curled up against my chest and trembled and sighed and went still and it felt like heaven. I must've just stared at you for an hour. You were frail and damaged, but so beautiful, so strong..."

Charlie choked, turning his face against my pillow as a sob bubbled up out of his throat, as his hand tightened around mine. With a tired sniff, he went on, "I don't remember falling asleep that morning, just that it was the best sleep I'd ever had. Ever since, I've always slept better with you in my arms. While I was in Romania, I had the most horrible insomnia and when I finally managed to fall asleep, all I could dream about was you... so you see, love, you can't die because I... I can't live without you anymore. You're constantly on my mind and nothing I do matters unless you're proud of me for it. I know you'd say I'm sappy, but I fantasize about how breathtaking you'll be walking down the aisle towards me on our wedding day, about what our kids will look like... I hope at least one has your eyes and all of them get your brains..."

He got quiet for a few minutes, his throat tight and eyes burning.

"Wake up," Charlie begged, finally crying himself to sleep with my cold hand clutched tightly in his warm one, "Please, just wake up. Come back to me. I love you and I can't say goodbye. Not yet and not like this..."

He fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep and dreamt of a little redheaded boy with his smile and my eyes.

xxXxx

Charlie's birthday was forgotten in all the chaos. He didn't feel much like celebration or pity so he didn't mention it.

After finally passing out on my bed late in the afternoon, he slept well into the following morning. He slept through the twins returning to the room, bickering heatedly over which one of them should get to make a go at a pretty healer they'd passed on their way back from the cafeteria. He slept through the very same healer stepping in to check up on me and both twins mercilessly putting the moves on her. He slept through the pretty Israeli's crushing and hilarious blows to their egos.

Charlie only woke up when my arm jerked suddenly in his grip.

His neck and back were strained from sleeping so long in such an odd position; he wrenched them both sharply as he sat up, wincing in pain but not letting go of my hand. He immediately looked at my face, vaguely hopeful that he'd see a smile and open eyes.

He did not.

My mouth was open slightly, erratic gasps forced between split lips; my eyes were moving wildly behind closed lids. Tears were running from the corners, streaking back down my bruised face and into the starchy pillow beneath my head.

"Hey!" Charlie croaked, quickly getting to his feet and looking about wildly for some sort of medical personnel, "Hey! Somebody! I need help in here!"

"Mr. Weasley, please keep your voice down," Healer Barak scolded as she raced into the room and carefully shut the door behind herself. The dark-haired beauty approached my bedside and gently questioned in an airy Israeli accent, "What is the problem?"

Shaking as he scrubbed a broad hand down his weathered face, Charlie answered, "S-She moved! And, well, just look at her! She's crying! What does that mean?"

After a brief examination of both me and the spells that were monitoring my body, the young woman stood up and stated, "She seems to be out of the coma. What you're seeing is deep REM sleep."

"But that's good news, right?" Charlie demanded, a slight smile fighting its way onto his face.

Nodding, the healer answered, "I believe so. I would give her another day or two, at least. Most of her physical injuries are healing nicely, but her body needs longer to deal with the high amount of magic she was exposed to."

Groggy and a few steps slow, Charlie gave a rather unintelligent grunt of, "Huh?"

The healer was already flipping through my chart and casually explained, "The curse she used released an extraordinarily high amount of magic when it detonated. Miss Wolf"--to keep me from getting arrested or assassinated, the twins provided the hospital with a false name when I was admitted: Angel Anastasia Wolf; they're _so_ creative, aren't they?--"was drenched with magic the same way a person caught in a potions explosion would be drenched with the potion. We call it saturation and, while it is not life-threatening, it is serious. Everyone's body deals with saturation in a different way, but they all eventually do balance themselves out. In her case, it might even be fortunate since the high amount of magic is probably aiding her recovery. Based on the brainwave scans of the last several hours, I'd say it seems to have her trapped in some sort of dream."

"It's a nightmare," Charlie responded automatically, tense and anxious as he sat back down in his seat, taking my hand in his again, "She's trapped in a nightmare..."

xxXxx

_I remember... a dark corridor with expensive dark wood paneling on the walls and lush black carpet underfoot. I was moving forward but I couldn't feel myself taking steps. It was more like... floating._

_At the end of the hallway there was a door. I put my hand on it and pushed and found myself blinded by the wave of hot white light I released._

_As soon as my eyes adjusted to the brightness, the brightness became darkness again, save for a single spotlight illuminating a column in the very center of the room. The column was intensely vivid and my eyes throbbed if I looked at it for too long; it didn't illuminate anything but a circle of bare, ashy concrete anyways..._

_I blinked and the circle wasn't bare anymore. My mom was there, looking like she did as I last remembered her: bloody, beaten, raped, just barely clinging to life. She was looking at me but through me. Her gaze was so glassy, so clouded by pain that she didn't seem to even recognize me._

_I tried to cry out but found myself mute. I ran to her, feeling my legs pump but not touch the ground as my body traveled quickly forward. Before I could reach her, Ernie stepped out of the darkness and directly in to my path._

_Yes, Ernie as in the muppet from Sesame Street, Bert's friend with the goofy arse smile._

_Only he wasn't smiling. He was scowling menacingly, his snarling mouth filled with gore-stained, razor-sharp fangs. His eyes were glowing, one cold midnight blue and the other deep, smoldering brown._

_I was quite disturbed and more than a little frightened._

_"He's dead," Ernie announced gravely, cartoonish fury written all over his orange felt face._

_My mom whined shrilly as an invisible body pressed hers to the floor and forced her legs apart. I wanted to close my eyes when she started to scream--her voice hoarse but dripping with pain--but I found myself unable to. I couldn't even blink anymore._

_Once again, I tried to go to her, stepping around Ernie and breaking into a run. I was stopped by a broad chest. I looked up and found myself staring into the stony face of Lex Luthor._

_You know, the Superman villain? Tall and bald and intimidating, he appeared to have walked straight out of a comic book or an episode of _Justice League

_Except for his eyes._

_His eyes were glowing, one cold midnight blue and the other deep, smoldering brown._

_"How could this have happened?" He raged, passing right through me with a rather uncomfortable shiver, "The attack was supposed to be foolproof!! How in Merlin's name could Marek possibly have managed to botch it?"_

_I could see--or rather couldn't--where a set of nonexistent hands were pressing into the flesh of my mom's neck, choking the life out of her as the invisible rapist continued thrusting mercilessly into her, as I heard an icy, disembodied laugh. She was spread wide and torn open and bleeding onto the ashy concrete._

_"Because he's always been a complete fuck up," Ernie growled, sinister face and gnashing red teeth all in shadow as he prowled at the edges of the spotlight. It felt so wrong to hear _fuck_ come out of his mouth. He was supposed to teach me all about sharing and the letter G. "Little brother never could do a damn thing right," He added, full of rage but also... sadness._

_I knew that he was sad that Marek was dead._

_I was not._

_"But how?" Luthor demanded, the pain of loss written on his face as well, "Even he shouldn't have been to make that plan go wrong!" He was a smart man; he was struggling to understand; he needed answers; he needed revenge._

_The hands tightened around my mom's throat. I heard the wet crunch of her trachea breaking for the second time in my life. It was two times too many._

_"_How_ isn't the question," A new voice called out, slow and syrup sweet and definitely female. I turned towards it and saw a pilgrim woman, hat, bonnet, apron, and all. She had long blonde hair and a cadaverous face and was hanging from her grotesquely broken neck by a taught noose that was stretched straight up into the darkness. It took me a moment to realize that her toes were dangling a mere whisper from the ground._

_Shrunken back in her dead skull, blazing out from the rotting flesh and exposed ridges of stark ivory bone, her eyes were glowing, one cold midnight blue and the other deep, smoldering brown._

_My mom's body bloomed from breast to thigh, weeping crimson appearing as quickly and as plentifully as spring flowers. Her eyes bulged and I watched more blooms form in them as the blood vessels broke, red starbursts against a field of white._

_Ernie, Lex, and the hanged pilgrim woman began a circular ballet at the edges of the spotlight that lit my mom, their movements fluid and horribly beautiful and oblivious to her desperate gurgles for help, for mercy, for death._

_"The question is _who_," The hanged woman declared, puffs of putrid decay escaping her shriveled black lips and stinging my nose as she passed close, "Who killed our baby brother? Who do we hold responsible? Who do we make pay?"_

_"The Prophet reported an injured survivor from the bookstore blast," Lex stated flatly, nodding to the swinging corpse, "Someone other than the children. I'll see what I can find out."_

_He stepped backwards into the blackness and was gone from my view in an instant._

_"I'll ask the other followers if they saw anything unusual," Ernie added gruffly, gory teeth dripping a trail of blood to the floor and into the blackness as he, too, stepped backwards and away._

_It was just my mom and the hanged woman and me. The dark room was quiet. My mom's attacker had left her in a growing puddle of red. Every difficult, shuddering breath she took set the hanged woman's skeletal body to swinging lightly. I took a step forward, knowing that all I would be able to do would be to cradle my mom in my arms as she died._

_But, in a flash, the hanged woman's head snapped in my direction, her glowing gaze locking with mine, freezing me in place. All my muscles seized with fear._

_I only remember the sounds of my own screams as the room erupted once again into blinding white, into cold midnight blue and deep, smoldering brown._

xxXxx

_The next thing I knew I was running._

_Fast. Terrified. Desperate._

_I was breathing hard, trying to take in the necessary air but no amount ever seemed sufficient and all of me ached with the thirst for more. more. more. I could feel sweat pouring off me, feel my arms and legs pumping furiously even though my feet weren't touching the ground, even though I was moving forward as if on a set of pulleys and stage wires. I couldn't stop running because something was chasing me, something was just a stretch behind._

_A lush forest began to unfold as I ranflew by, deep tropical greens and reds spreading out to dominate the landscape, almost so thick I couldn't push my way through but I had to. I had to._

_The air was hot, smothering and wet and sweet._

_There was a man running in front of me. I could only see the back of his head, see a trail of black billowing robes and black dripping hair. The black hair was long, the frayed ends whipping inches in front of my nose even though the man was several strides ahead of me. It was dripping oil, leaving a trail of viscous black grease along the forest floor, smearing streaks on anything it touched as its owner fled, getting in my eyes and smudging my view of the forest with necrotic black film burns I couldn't seem to blink away._

_The man was afraid._

_He began to look over his shoulder, almost enough so that I could see his stark white face, but he tripped over a thick tree root and spilled into the decaying plant litter._

_Black grease splattered out from beneath him, like he was a bursting water balloon._

_I caught up but, as soon as I did, a shadow came from nowhere and fell upon the man, engulfed him and his screams._

_I lost my vision in the tail end of the shadow._

xxXxx

_I was little, small and looking up at a giant-sized world. The furniture, a bookcase and desks in a dank gray potions lab, seemed to stretch so far over me, twisting like spires and nearly blocking the ceiling from my view._

_My old plush toy, a bright pink puppy I called Snuffles and carried everywhere with me until I was six, was sitting on the edge of one of the counters._

_I was near tears because no matter how hard I tried, no matter how far I stretched my hands up towards him, I couldn't reach Snuffles._

_"Please, Severus, I don't know anyone else to ask." I heard._

_It was my mommy's voice, smooth and clear and comforting. I turned slightly to find her standing a ways behind me, talking to a tall man whose face I could not see. He had long black hair that was dripping grease into a puddle on the floor._

_As I walked closer, planning on getting my mommy to rescue Snuffles, the man coldly answered, "And I don't know why I should help you. Power binding takes a great deal of concentration and skill, and it is risky. I could very well end up blocking off her ability to speak in full sentences."_

_"I know it's dangerous," My mommy said, blue eyes sad and pleading, "I wouldn't be risking my daughter's health if I didn't think it was necessary. You know what will happen to her if people ever find out what she can do."_

_"You're overreacting," The man countered, voice flat, vaguely annoyed._

_My mommy stood her ground, hissing, "You know I'm not! You know damn well what _He_ will do if he finds out! I just want Leila to grow up safe and normal!"_

_Standing behind the man unnoticed, I was shocked at hearing a swear, however mild, leave my mommy's mouth._

_The man huffed indignantly, grumbling, "Yes, I believe _normality_ has been your motivation all along. Merlin forbid the girl grow up gifted _and_ with a freak father who loves her."_

_"My relationship with Remus is _none_ of your business!" My mommy shouted, stomping her foot angrily, "I didn't leave him for what he is! I would never have been with him in the first place if I had a problem with that! I left Remus because what he is doing is _dangerous_!! He was putting Leila in danger and he refused to stop!!"_

_"Cowardice is still cowardice no matter how you justify it," The man drawled lazily._

_In an instant, my mommy raised her hand to slap him and I barely smothered down a whimper of fear._

_"Careful," He said, halting her arm more surely than if he'd grabbed it, "Assault is no way to get what you came here for."_

_Her arm fell limply to her side. "So are you going to help me or not?" She demanded, sounding very small, very close to defeat._

_There was a long silence from the man before he finally answered, "I supposed I can try. Bring me the child."_

_My mommy finally noticed my presence, forcing a watery smile as she bent down to my level and held open her arms. "C'mere, Pup," She cooed. I must have been very, very young because I don't ever remember a time when she called me Pup._

_A little uneasy, I toddled foward into her warm embrace and found myself being scooped up from the floor._

_"Mommy," I sobbed pitifully, burying my face against her shoulder as I pointed towards my toy, "Snuffles! Can't reach him!"_

_"Oh, I'm sorry, Pup," My mommy replied, brushing blonde hair away from my runny eyes and nose, "Severus, could you hand me that toy, please?"_

_"This _thing_ looks positively diseased," He sneered. I looked up and saw that he was dangling my stuffed pink puppy by one paw between two stained, bony fingers._

_"Snuffles!!" I cried, leaning away from my mommy as I reached for him. The man was quick to hand the plushie over to me and I cuddled Snuffles close, sniffling and finally calm. As far as I was concerned, all was right with the world._

_"Pup," My mommy cooed into my ear, "This is my friend, Severus. Can you say hello?"_

_"Hello," I mumbled, not bothering to look away from Snuffles, from his lovely pink fur and kind, shining black eyes._

_"Severus is going to... he's going to look at you," My mommy told me, "To make you feel better, just like at the doctor's office."_

_"_Non mi ammalo, mamma_," I laughed happily. I must have been about two-years-old; my mommy was working in Italy and I remembered her telling me that I used to switch into the language at random and inappropriate times just because I liked the way it sounded. I said that I wasn't sick._

_"Oh, I know, Pup," She stated, bouncing me in her embrace, "But Severus is going to look at you still. Can you be good for me and behave while he does?"_

_I felt uneasy but nodded, finally turning my gaze up towards the man. He had a great white face and a giant hooked nose. His lips were pursed together in an uncomfortable scowl, like he'd just taken a bite of a lemon. He had long, greasy black hair that was dripping off him into a puddle on the workshop floor._

_"Set her on the counter," He ordered my mommy. She was quick to comply, to step away anxiously and stand a few steps behind Severus, wringing her hands and not doing a very good job at all of hiding her nervousness and worry._

_"This won't hurt a bit, girl," Severus stated._

_Confused, pouting, I hugged Snuffles closer and turned back towards the man. He had his wand pointed straight between my eyes._

_I felt my eyes grow wide. I squeezed Snuffles tighter and recoiled and opened my mouth to scream._

_A bright, blinding flash of white light shot out from his wand and into my face and I don't remember anything more._

xxXxx

"Leila, it's not real."

December 24th, 1999--Christmas Eve--was less than jolly. Charlie was still at my bedside, still holding my hand and desperately trying to talk me free from the nightmares that had taken my mind.

"I'm here, baby, and I know you're scared, but it's not real."

The healers had told him repeatedly that talking to me probably wouldn't help anything; he told them repeatedly that it definitely wouldn't hurt.

"Come on, you're strong. You can fight this. Fight your way out."

He declined the somber Christmas celebrations back at Grimmauld; he wasn't missing very much anyways because no one was in a very celebratory mood.

"Please, baby. I know you can do this."

And I slept on, crying out and mumbling, my eyes moving wildly behind closed lids as strange visions passed through my head.

"I love you. I love you, Leila. More than anything. Please, come back to me."

xxXxx

_A great lion came slowly towards me, slightly favoring his left. He was quite a sight but was probably more of one twenty years previous when he was in his prime. As it stood then, the creature was graying all over and a bit scrawny._

_His mane was still absolutely magnificent, a mute tawny red shot through with silver, and the square wire glasses set on the end of his wet nose did little to hide the shrewd intelligence in his yellow eyes._

_"We don't negotiate with terrorists," He told me, walking closer and closer and until we stood barely inches apart, nose-to-nose._

_He smiled at me, wide and calculating, "But you do."_

xxXxx

_The lion was suddenly gone and instead of it, I found myself nose-to-nose with... myself... but I was a wolf._

_I could see myself in wolf form as I stared down into a clear, glassy pool of water at a forest's edge. I was gold all over._

_A tug on my tail made me turn and I saw... wolf pups, little and playful and smiling up at me._

_There were seven of them in the pack. The largest was a pretty female with pale, sparkling blue eyes, with a gleaming red-gold coat that had tiny white flowers threaded through it._

_Next were a pair of pups that looked like they had once been a dull yellow before they went and romped through a vat of psychedelic paints. They were wrestling playfully and reminded me of tie-dyed t-shirts. One was male, the other female._

_There was a male with great gold eyes and a happy smile and a curly crimson coat. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his tail wagged happily. There was another male at his side. He was all jet black and slightly smaller, much more menacing. But I saw his eyes--warm and deep and blue, like tropical water--and didn't have it in him to ever hurt a soul._

_Hiding behind them was a fluffy, pale gold pup. He looked so sweet, with a tiny pink nose and bright blue eyes, and he barked shyly at me as his frizzy little tail wagged._

_Lastly, the smallest, was another female and she was dancing around in happy, carefree circles. She was a deep midnight blue all over, including her eyes, and the closer I looked, the more I could see the brilliant stardust sticking to her fur, like she'd been dancing through the sky and it had rubbed off as she passed each celestial body._

_They lined up before me, from biggest to smallest, and grinned with those wide, doggy grins._

_"I will call you the Little Bads," I announced proudly, importantly, wondering vaguely how it was possible for me to be speaking. "And when the moon is full," I told them, "The world is ours."_

_My statement was met with howls of approval, a wild chorus that became higher and louder until my head throbbed and my vision erupted into white._

xxXxx

_I was deep inside a dark forest, padding cautiously along on all fours. I was still a wolf and the air was so sinister sweet that it stung my nose and made my eyes weep._

_I saw one of the wolf pups up ahead, the red-gold female with the pale blue eyes and little white flowers in her sleek fur. She seemed happy to see me, yapping excitedly as she bounded to my side. She didn't speak, but bounced between me and the rest of the narrow dirt path so many times that I became dizzy and convinced she wanted me to follow her._

_So I did._

_We walked for a ways in easy companionship, communicated with upbeat barks and friendly, affectionate touches. She led the way to a bright, sunny clearing. The sweet smell was much, much stronger there, but it looked a lot less frightening than the rest of the dark, mysterious forest. In fact, the air had a gold, hazy glow to it._

_The wolf pup and I frolicked out into the high, sweet grasses, playing and rolling around and having so much fun there in the beautiful sunshine and flowers._

_However, we were both quick to grow drowsy, out-of-breath and light-headed. Burnt-out._

_I flopped limply to the grass, breathing hard and not seeming to be able to get enough breath no matter how many I took. I knew that something was wrong._

_I gathered my strength and glanced around the meadow, finally noticing the lovely, pale gold flowers that were scattered amongst the grasses._

_I finally noticed the fine, pale gold pollen they were spewing into the air like mist._

_The sinister sweet smell was from those flowers, from the pollen, and it had turned the air to poison._

_I panicked, pulling myself up on weak, unsteady limbs. I whined deeply, searching the clearing for the bright little pup so that I could get both of us away from the toxic splendor and welcoming, motherly arms of death._

_She was lying in the grass a few yards away, panting desperately for air... and then... not. Her chest went still._

_She was so small, so much smaller than me that she never even stood a chance against the lethal saccharine haze._

_I butted her lightly with the crown of my head and cried until the poison took me, too._

xxXxx

_It was dark again, like pitch, and I was back on two legs, though my breathing still felt labored... presumably from the fine pollen clinging inside my lungs but... maybe something different..._

_My throat felt like it was on fire._

_As I walked, it started to get easier and easier to breathe and to see. The dark was still there, but the pitch was fading to dim charcoal as I stumbled along._

_But then I could see a shape of a man walking towards me. He was broad-shouldered and had a cocky swagger in his step._

_I knew in an instant it was Charlie._

_As soon as the realization came to my mind, he appeared in a burst of sunlight, handsome and smiling and so happy._

_I excitedly called out his name, waving like the love-sick fool I am as I broke out into a rapid sprint. I could see his smile, his gorgeous, shining blue eyes beckoning me out of the darkness. He was standing in the light, in the sunshine, and he was waiting for me to join him._

_But I hear a loud blast from behind me, sudden and sharp; it left a high ringing in my ears. I felt the shockwaves against my back before I saw the deadly black bullet go whirling by the corner of my right eye. It was glossy and spinning, a perfect dark silhouette that shot forward point first._

_I tried to scream but the word wanted seemed to stick in my throat, my arms and legs working furiously, futilely to outrun the projectile. I jumped the last few feet and tackled Charlie to the floor... but not before the black bullet punctured his heart._

_"Charlie," I sobbed, straddling him and staring down into the sunken hole in his chest, into the red leaking onto his pure white shirt and pale, dappled skin, "Charlie, no. Please, no."_

_I looked into his eyes and didn't see pain or fear, only love and that cocky grin._

_Instead of a sticky puddle, the dark crimson on his shirt became a soft, bulging flower bud._

_I saw so confused, and so scared, and Charlie just kept smiling. "_Wake up, Leila_," He told me plainly, his voice far off, soft and coaxing, "_Wake up, love_."_

_"You're hurt," I sobbed, my hands shaking as I reached out to cup the flower between my palms._

_It burst open and into fire. I could feel my skin melting away but couldn't let go._

_Dragon rose, I realized, it was a dragon rose._

_"Charlie," I whimpered, wanting to recoil but finding myself unable to, unable or unwilling to leave him to burn alone._

_"_It's ok, Leila_," He said, still smiling, his hands closing around mine. His skin began to melt as well and it was taking all my strength not to scream as the fire and the ache engulfed the rest of my body._

_"_I'm right here_," He said, the blue of his eyes still deep and poignant even as the rest of him sizzled and melted, "_Please, love. Wake up. Come back to me._"_

_"No," I cried shakily, feeling my whole head burning, throbbing, feeling my shoulders scorch and my stomach set to flame, "No. Charlie. Stop. Make it stop."_

_"_Leila_," He whispered, his hands tightening almost painfully around mine and around the dragon rose from his heart that was consuming us both, that was melding us so irreversibly together, "_Wake up_."_

xxXxx

I shot awake screaming, kicking and punching wildly and not entirely sure why. All of me still felt like it was on fire; the movements were painful but I couldn't stop...

"Leila," Came Charlie's voice, gruff and tired but unmistakably relieved, "Leila, love, it's alright. It's me. It's Charlie. You're safe. I've got you."

I felt the arms closed tight around me, so strong and warm, and began to calm down almost instantly. "Charlie," I whimpered in between sobs and desperate gasps for breath, "Charlie, oh god! Y-You were... I saw... fire and-and the flower... flowers! NO! The wolf pup! I have to save her! She's so little!! She'll never make it!!"

"Shhh," He replied, rocking me carefully. I felt his tears wet my neck and felt his cracking voice rumble through my whole body, "It was just a dream, love. None of it was real. You're safe now."

I seemed to relax fairly quickly after that--Charlie's always had that effect on me--and I soon found myself with my face pressed against his shoulder, my arms wound around him as I sobbed convulsively. I didn't entirely understand why.

"You're alright," He soothed, big hands rubbing circles on my back, "You're alright. Just breathe deep, love. I've got you."

After a few long moments of ragged gasps and sniffles, I managed to look up. I saw Charlie's wet, red eyes and elated smile and I almost started bawling again.

He touched my cheek, soft, like he was afraid I would break, and a bright sob bubbled up out of his throat as he stated, "Happy Christmas, love. You're just want I asked for."

Before I could say anything, he leaned in and kissed me. It was tender and desperate, starving, and I felt myself melting yet again.

I didn't really care.

xxXxx

"So, when do you think I can get out of here?" I asked Charlie sometime later, when we were both lounging exhaustedly in my narrow hospital bed. I was so tired, and so sore, and I just wanted to go home before anything more could go wrong.

"Dunno," My boyfriend replied thoughtfully, propped up on my pillows and threading his long fingers through what was left of my sandy blonde hair as he held me close, "You don't want me to even let the healers know you're awake yet."

"In a little while," I grumbled, wincing as I shifted to press my ear against his heart. I knew my dreams were just dreams but I they all seemed so real and I was still so scared. "I want more time with you before they start poking me and shoving potions down my throat," I declared hoarsely, "Besides, I still think we should just leave-"

"Please," He growled, his grip on me unconsciously tightening, "I almost lost you."

I got quiet, still listening to the strong heartbeat inside Charlie's massive chest. "I'm not sorry," I told him plainly, "There was no other way... I'd do it again."

"I know," He answered, somber as he brushed a kiss against my the crown of my head, "I'd do the same. Doesn't mean I'm ever going to be ok with the idea of you being hurt or killed." I looked up and saw he was wearing that cocky grin of his, the one that makes me truly, hopelessly his. "Just do your best to stick around," He requested sweetly, pressing his forehead against mine, his lips briefly to mine, "I've grown sort of attached."

I giggled sweetly and he laughed, deep and warm.

And then he grew serious once more, tropical blue eyes pleading at me desperately. "I love you," He confessed, seeming suddenly small and wounded, "I-I don't think I could've gone on-"

"Don't even _think_ about finishing that sentence, you big fat hypocrite," I joked dryly, sending him a withering glare.

After a brief moment, a reluctant grin broke on his handsome face; he nodded slowly.

We had our first Christmas morning together; it was beautiful, and perfect, and more than I knew I deserved.

xxXxx

We only had a few hours before Healer Barak came in to check on me. She wasn't too happy with either of us and we got scolded for a good long while. It was alright. I didn't mind much. I was alive and Charlie was by my side. Life didn't get too terribly better.

Besides, the pretty young Israeli was only doing her job and, from what Charlie had told me about the twins' repeated attempts to get into her pants, it was understandable for Tovah to be a little on the cranky side.

I was poked and prodded and force-fed disgusting potions until I thought they were going to start coming out of my ears, but, eventually, I was given a clean bill of health. I still felt like shit and was ordered to rest for at least two weeks, but they were going to allow me to go home that afternoon. I would be just in time for Christmas lunch at Grimmauld.

Based on what Remus told me when he rushed in early to see me, with a slightly queasy-looking Tonks in tow, the entire house was all aflutter getting decorations and food ready for my homecoming. It was turning out to be a fairly excellent day.

Until Charlie stepped out to use the bathroom, the first time he'd left my side since I was brought into the hospital, and a handful of aurors showed up to guard my door. That would have been nice and all, except they weren't keeping out all those bad people who wanted to hurt me; they were keeping me in.

"I'm sorry, Miss Kione," One of them, a lanky young woman, said; I knew I was screwed when she called me _Miss Kione_ instead of _Miss Wolf_, "We have orders to detain you pending the minister's arrival." She did look truly sorry, young and green, with a handful of freckles speckled across her bright cheeks and little pointed nose, with dark auburn pigtails hanging down from behind both rather large ears. The two other aurors she had accompanying her seemed to be equally inexperienced--a pair of strapping young men, a blonde and a brunette who could've almost been brothers if they hadn't looked so utterly contrary to one another--and fidgeted with their wands as they stared at me, seeming to be undecided on whether to be impressed or terrified.

"Fuck the minister!" I snarled, "I've got nothing to say to that useless old windbag! Now move it!"

"We have our orders," The girl declared, openly nervous but stubbornly unwavering, "And we've been authorized to use force if necessary."

I glared, spitting, "Bitch, don't think for one second being under orders is going to save your skinny behind from getting kicked up and down this hallway if you do not get the _fuck_ out of my way!"

"I'm sorry," She bellowed back, desperately trying to keep herself from backing down, "We can't allow you to leave! The minister will be here shortly to speak with you!"

I gave a strangled groan, rolling my eyes and pushing back panic; I was really hoping that the minister was not on his way to have me arrested. I was still a fugitive, after all, wanted for questioning in dozens of murders--with good reason, since I was the one who committed them--but I did not want to go to jail. My life was just starting to get straightened out, to get good again.

I wasn't going to let _anyone_ take that away from me.

So I decked the auror, a clean upper-cut straight to her jaw. Damn thing was like glass and she went down in a heap on the floor.

Her two big strong protectors were on me in an instant, tackling me to the ground right beside her and binding my hands behind my back as I shrieked, and punched, and kicked, and swore, and made a rather large scene in the hospital hallway. It didn't last long. My injuries were not fully healed and even that small confrontation had them all erupting into searing pain.

I got dizzy and nauseas; I couldn't fight them off; I went limp and tried to stay conscious.

But that was when Charlie returned, chatting happily with Remus and Tonks; he met them while the couple were making their way back from the appointment they had with the baby doctor; they were having twins.

The three rounded the corner and saw me on the floor, with the two burly aurors pinning me down. Tears were pouring out of my tightly-closed eyes as I whimpered pathetically; it hurt so bad to have my arms twisted like that, especially after my right shoulder had just been dislocated.

"GET THE _FUCK_ OFF HER!!" Charlie bellowed furiously, sprinting the span of the hallway in an instant and throwing his body against one of my attackers. I heard the impact, a rough _thump_ of flesh on flesh, as the auror was tackled hard to the tile and Charlie began smashing his fists into the younger man's face. Remus was only a few steps behind to give the same violent treatment to the second auror.

I would have helped, but my arms were bound with magic. Tonks was at my side in a few moments, cautiously releasing the charm and helping me to sit on a bench outside my room. After she made sure I was reasonably comfortable, she glanced at the female auror--who was finally coming around--and sounded surprised as she asked, "Annie?"

"Huh?" The girl grunted, rubbing her jaw as she slowly pushed herself up.

"What are you doing here?" Tonks demanded, not quite angry but not exactly thrilled either, pointedly ignoring the fact that Remus and Charlie were still beating the crap out of the other two men. No magic was being used at all; it was fists, pure and simple.

"Got orders," The girl, Annie, replied shortly, "Detaining a fugee."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Tonks muttered, rolling her eyes and running after the fight, presumably to get Remus and Charlie to stop assaulting the aurors.

It was all over fairly quick after that though. One of the young men, the blonde, finally managed to reach his wand and hit Charlie and then Remus with full-body binds. Finally free from getting pummeled repeatedly, the other joined him to begin securing the dangerous suspects. Limping heavily and nursing various bloody contusions, they had a rather belligerent Remus and Charlie sat side-by-side on the floor outside my room in only a few moments. I was so proud.

"Am I interrupting something?" An ancient-sounding voice inquired, vaguely amused by quite obviously... um... not.

I glanced up. I swore. It was Rufus Fucking Scrimgeour. He was tall, and quite rangy, with a mane of silvered tawny hair. The square wire glasses set on the end of his shapely nose did little to hide the shrew intelligence in his yellow eyes.

"No, Sir," Annie quickly assured him, snapping herself up from her seat beside me on the bench. My hands had been rebound, though in the front this time for comfort's sake, and the two men had been doting over the girl's bruised jaw even as they both bled all over the place. "We arrived to secure the fugitive," She reported, very official-like, "But she resisted and assaulted me. Aurors Rhys and Vaughn were attempting to restrain her when two male suspects intervened. We are detaining them for questioning."

"I see," The minister deadpanned, limping forward on a thick wood staff as his gaze swept over the wrecked hallway. I noted that the crowds of curious patients and angry healers were conspicuously absent. It suddenly seemed like the entire floor was deserted... likely emptied and locked down. "You may release Miss Kione," He stated, unconcerned, "And escort her into her room, please. I need a word."

"Fuck you," I spat angrily, "I've got nothing to say."

The old man gave me a horribly condescending little grin, still unruffled as he soothed, "I think you will once you hear my offer. It is a quite generous one, I believe, especially since I could easily have you on the next boat to Azkaban."

I hated the fact that he was right, that I'd been caught and everything could end for me.

"Fine," I hissed between clenched teeth, standing shakily to my feet and holding my hands out for Annie to uncharm. She did so quickly, nervous to be in my presence. When I was free, I shrugged her off me. I gave Remus and Charlie a meaningful nod and held my head high as I led the minister into my hospital room.

He closed the door behind himself, locking it and performing a anti-eavesdropping spell. Well now, that was sort of interesting...

"I have an offer," He began, cutting right to the chase, "One that, if you agree to it, will not only keep you out of prison, but grant you complete immunity for all the crimes you have committed worldwide."

I raised an eyebrow, skeptically challenging, "Can you even do that? Your jurisdiction doesn't extend past the island."

"I have made arrangements," Scrimgeour stated quietly, lowering himself quite stiffly into a chair. I had to work hard to keep myself from growling; it was _Charlie's_ chair.

"All charges will be dropped," He said, "All warrants will be rescinded. You will be a free woman."

"Ya? And what do you want from me in return?" I growled, circling away from him, already regretting allowing myself to be in the same room as that man. I didn't like him, the way he carried out his politics like he was the puppeteer and everyone else was a puppet.

"A very difficult situation has arisen," He told me, his deep voice not changing in volume or pitch, "One I believe you are in a unique position to help us in defusing."

He said no more and I got impatient quickly, snapping, "Well, what is it?"

"We have been tracking another fugitive," Scrimgeour said evenly, "A very elusive and highly sought-after one. His trail has been highly difficult to follow for the last two years and disappeared completely several months ago."

"Fascinating," I spat, "What's it got to do with me?"

Patiently, Scrimgeour continued, "The Ministry was contacted by a group holding him for ransom. They are effectively a band of pirates operating completely outside the control of any muggle or magical authority."

"You're really going to need to get to your point _a lot_ faster," I threatened bluntly, "Or else I'm going to lose my goddamn temper."

The man shot me a placating smile that I just itched to slap off his wrinkled old face. "My point, Miss Kione," He said, "Is that these pirates have not only contacted the Ministry, they have also contacted the Dark Lord. I believe they mean to force a bidding war and we can neither afford to have the top offer nor to lose."

"Suck it up," I told him, "If this guy is worth it, pay whatever they're asking."

"I'm afraid it is not that simple," He stated sadly, "The amount of money they are demanding could not be obtained without notice and, since it is absolutely against Ministry policy to negotiate with these types of individuals, the funding would never be approved. We _cannot_ pay the ransom."

I was pacing by then, absolutely furious because I knew what he was going to ask and didn't want to do it but pretty much had to.

The puppet master had struck again.

I remained silent.

"However," Scrimgeour added, "We also cannot allow the group to turn our fugitive over to the Dark Lord. He worked as a double-agent for some time. We have to assume that he knows enough classified and sensitive information to attempt to use it to deal for his life."

"And you want me to find him," I finally spat, fed up with the minister's constant dance around his true purpose, "To re-kidnap him and bring him in."

"Precisely," The man smiled, "We have established that you are connected to a known member of the group and believe you will have little trouble locating our fugitive and securing his release, without official involvement, of course."

I rolled my eyes, mocking, "_Of course_." I was far from being a happy camper, pacing for a few moments of silence before demanding, "And if I don't do this?"

Scrimgeour continued to smile his irritating smile, advising, "That would be unwise because then I would have to order Aurors Foster, Rhys, and Vaughn take you into custody. Such would be a shame, as I was going to assign them to your command for this mission.

"Those three fucking pre-schoolers?" I scoffed, unable to keep myself from laughing out loud at the whole ridiculous situation, "They can't be more than two weeks out of basic training! What the fuck good do they do me?"

"They are the top of their class," The minister defended, "And they graduated only days ago, but have not been added to the department as of yet. It is the best I can do while at the same time keeping official involvement to a minimum."

"I'd rather go alone than have to _babysit_," I snarled.

Nodding, Scrimgeour placated, "Yes, I'm sure you would. However, they will be accompanying you on this mission in order to insure that it is carried out. I will be providing a reasonable amount of money for you to barter with and they will make sure it is used for its rightful purpose."

I groaned, turning around and bashing my forehead lightly against the wall several times. "I'll do it," I sighed defeatedly, "But I want the deal in writing, about the immunity and getting warrants recinded." I glared over my shoulder, hissing, "You'd better not try to fuck me over. I have very little problem with the idea of separating your head from the rest of you."

Bastard had the nerve to chuckle at me as he stood from Charlie's chair, leaning heavily on his staff and soothing, "There is no need for threats, Miss Kione. Your crimes do not interest me and I bear you no ill will. The way I see it, you saved the Ministry a lot of time and energy by what you did... don't quote me on that, of course, or I will have to hastily deny the statement."

"Tool," I grumbled beneath my breath.

"I will have the documents drawn up and delivered," The man stated, "I trust you will see to it that my owl will be able to find you. At what time shall I inform your team that you are leaving?"

"January first," I spat crankily, "And not a day earlier." I wasn't going to miss Remus' wedding. Not for anything.

Scrimgeour gave a terse nod, agreeing, "That is acceptable. Now, if you would just be so kind as to make a wand oath promising you will fulfill your end of our bargain if I fulfill mine, then we can both be on our ways."

I quickly performed the rite.

Scrimgeor seemed pleased, grinning as he stated, "Thank you. Good day, Miss Kione." He undid the locks and wards and strolled out of the room. Lingering behind for a few moments while I tried to come to terms with my new mission, I heard him give instructions for Remus and Charlie to be released and for the aurors to follow him for their briefing.

Charlie came running in only seconds later, immediately closing me into a tight, smothering hug. I buried my face against his shoulder to hide the tears in my eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked gruffly, petting my hair, peppering my throat with kisses.

"Mhmm," I murmured, not quite ready to let go of him. He felt like a lifeline and... I was going to have to leave him.

"What did that old fuck want?" Charlie said, managing to snarl and still sound loving and concerned, "Are you in trouble, baby?"

"It was nothing," I lied, my voice trembling as the tears spilled, "I just want to go home."

I was going to have a long few days ahead of me.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yippee!!

Er... I mean, BOOO!!! Scrimgeour is a tool!!

Scrimgeour hates it when you review so stick it to the man and drop me a little line :)


	17. Part 17: Wedded Bliss

Part 17 - Wedded Bliss

I wasn't asleep and Charlie knew it but he still whispered when he called my name. "Leila," He murmured, reaching out to pull me closer to him in his bed, out of the little ball I'd curled into, almost hanging off the side. His voice was soft but edgy, worried, "Love, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," I answered, hating myself for choosing to lie, "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," He gruffly accused, dragging me flush against his chest, his arms tightening possessively as he pressed his face against the back of my neck, "You've hardly slept since we got home from the hospital. What's wrong? Was it something Scrimgeour said to you?"

"Really," I insisted, staring at the dark window, "I'm fine. It's just... it's just bad dreams, Charlie. They'll pass. They always do."

He remained quiet but I could feel his heart thundering against my back, feel his breath warm against my skin. After was seemed like forever, after offering up a thousand prayers for him to just let the matter drop, he finally stated, "Alright, love. If you're sure." He kissed me on the cheek, settling us both under the covers.

We sat in silence for another few moments but, just as I thought he was finally falling back asleep, the redhead hesitantly added, "I love you, baby. You know that, right?"

"'Course," I muttered reflexively, eyes wide open and staring into the dark as the tears poured, "Love you, too, stud."

xxXxx

Scrimgeour didn't wait long to send me my immunity agreement. Christmas lunch was barely over when the owl arrived. I read over the papers and the deal was rock solid; if I carried out this mission, then I wouldn't be a fugitive from the law anymore. Standing just outside the kitchen, I could hear Charlie laughing boisterously as he joked with Bill, as he wrestled the twins to the floor and tickled Roo.

I knew that all I wanted was a life with him, a family, and I could never have or give those things if I was locked-up or constantly on the run.

I accepted the deal and confirmed my involvement in the recovery operation.

The next owl came later that night. Everyone was already starting to get suspicious of my behavior. I'd been acting strange all day and leapt straight out of Charlie's lap when the bird tapped on the window. I took the thick file from the creature and ran in another room, shouting excuses over my shoulder as I went.

It was a packet of intel on my mission. The rebels that were holding the fugitive were associated with the Zapatistas, an anti-imperialism, anti-neoliberalism group in Mexico, based mainly out of Chiapas. They were mostly about protecting Mexico's poor and indigenous people's from exploitation by the government and the world markets. The muggle and magical communities in that part of the world had never been as stratified as they were in most others and wizards mixed freely with the general population. Magic abounded; the land and the culture were seeped in it and the efforts to hide it were sometimes nonexistent. Finding a wizard in the mix with muggles and vice versa was not unusual.

The member I knew in the organization was a wizard; his name was Mateo Arroyo. I began to dread the trip even more. He was one of the last people on earth that I wanted to talk to.

Also included was the name of the man I was meant to be recovering, as well as a photo. I must have spent hours staring at it; Severus Snape was the man I saw in my dreams, the man who was running through the jungle, the one with the greasy black hair who was talking to my mom.

It was eerie, like twilight zone shit.

And then there were files on the three aurors I would have to drag along, Annabella Foster, Evan Rhys, and Isaiah Vaughn. Their records were impressive--they were the top three of their class--but they were barely nineteen and had just graduated training; accompanying me on this non-mission was to be their first real assignment. I didn't expect much in the way of competence and, besides, they had loyalties that lay elsewhere. They were a liability. I was starting to believe that useless morons would always come to me in threes.

I couldn't even begin to wrap my mind around the trip; everything seemed to be going wrong and I hadn't even started.

But I prepared for it anyways; I snuck out to make phone calls and buy supplies. The ministry was bankrolling the operation and, while the sum wasn't exactly princely, it was definitely more than enough to do the job.

By the 29th, I had a duffle bag of guns and traveling cash hidden under my bed.

"Leila," I jumped nearly out of my skin when Tonks walked in seconds after I'd stuffed it there, a somewhat worried frown on her face. She fixed me with a strange look, asking, "You alright?"

"I'm fine," I quickly defended, taking a deep breath and trying to relax as I sat innocently, if a bit stiffly onto my bed, "Did you need something?"

Still skeptical, the currently orange-haired woman answered, "Yes, actually. If you're feeling up for it, Molly wants you downstairs to fit your bridesmaid dress."

Getting to my feet, I nodded and agreed, "Sure."

We left side-by-side, awkward and silent until Tonks finally stated, "So, did you have some errand you needed to run this morning?"

"What do you mean?" I answered, trying desperately to control my nerves.

"I saw you leave," The woman stated, not quite accusing me of anything but getting pretty damn close, "At a rather ungodly hour, no less. I was just curious. You really should be resting, you know? That's what the healers said. I'd be happy to get you anything you need."

"Thanks," I muttered, "But, uh... it's... I sort of have to do it myself."

"Hmm," She responded suspiciously, giving me a very clinical stare.

My brain was working overtime thinking of a proper lie and then one just _clicked_.

I smiled shyly, teasing, "It was supposed to be a surprise, but I guess I can't fool the super auror. I'm planning to give you and Remus a honeymoon for a wedding present. I was out making travel arrangements."

Her face flooded with color, her mouth opening in a series of embarrassed stutters. "Y-You were just-" She asked sheepishly, "You were just planning a honeymoon for us? Really?"

"I thought it would be nice," I fibbed boldly, "I mean, I know I sort of had a rough start with Remus and that I've been a royal bitch to you. Think of it as a peace offering. You're going to be the mother of my younger half-siblings, after all."

Tonks still didn't know what to say; she looked caught somewhere between completely mortification and deeply-moved awe. Eventually, she settled for a fond smile and soft, "Thank you... so, where are we going then?"

"Do you want me to ruin the _entire_ surprise?" I teased, "Can't a girl keep a little mystery?"

xxXxx

So then I had to plan a honeymoon, too. It was a pain in the arse, but actually, when I thought about the situation, it also worked to my advantage.

I could send Remus away so that he wouldn't notice I was gone; I could send him somewhere the Order residents couldn't reach him so that he wouldn't worry.

I settled on Île Sainte-Marie, a little tourist island off the east coast of Madagascar. It was an ideal place for whale-watching and scuba diving, rich in exotic plant and animal life; it was summer there and the place had a perfect mix of exciting activities and educational merit for Tonks and Remus to both enjoy.

Also a plus was the fact that I had a contact on the island, the son of one of my mom's fellow cursebreakers. When we were kids, he and I had been dragged along on a few of the same digs and were fairly good friends. He was a few years older than me, an avid diver who'd settled down on the island to run a little boat and basically loaf about for as long as possible.

The most important thing about Atreus Kanavos was that I trusted him completely. Although a bit of a pothead--he had earned the nickname "Tre Cannabis" fairly early in his teens--he was one of the most loyal men on the entire planet and I knew he would keep Remus and Tonks safe. He agreed immediately to my plan, happy to help out a friend and more than willing to perform the fidelius and cloaking charms that would be needed to keep the pair hidden during their honeymoon. Everything was set.

And then all I had to be concerned about was Charlie and his fairly obvious worries about my health and behavior. I was avoiding him as much as I could during the day, disappearing on errands or pretending to be asleep. The healers had said I needed lots of rest and they definitely weren't kidding. My errands were taking a lot out of me. Charlie was too sweet to attempt to wake me, whether or not my slumber was feigned.

When we were alone together, I was very quiet. I didn't like lying to him and I knew that if he looked at me with that pleading expression of his... well, then I wouldn't be able to any longer.

And I _needed_ to be able to lie to him.

I was so distracted with my plans, and keeping my plans a secret, and avoiding Charlie that I didn't even noticed how upset Roo was.

I remembered everything from the attack but was in a state of denial about the girl's premature warning. I was scared for her and I thought that if I ignored what happened, then maybe it would go away.

I was less than rational during that time.

"Leila! Leila!" She jogged to keep up with my longer strides as I kept my eyes fixed on the end of the hallway, on an empty room to work in so that I wouldn't have to face the girl. "_Leila_!!" Roo shrieked, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt in an attempt to make me stay and talk to her.

"Ya?" I asked, trying as hard as I could to ignore the girl because I knew I didn't have any answers for her.

I didn't look but I could hear her bottom lip trembling as those blue eyes filled with tears. "How come you don't like me anymore?" The little pixie blubbered, breaking down into heartbroken sobs.

I cracked in an instant. "Oh, Roo," I answered, finally halting my steps and turning to face her, kneeling and folding the tearful creature into my arms, "I still love you very much and I'm always going to. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I've just been very busy for the past few days."

"But you don't play with me," She pouted, freckled face so sweet and pleading, "You don't give me my French lessons or sit next to me when we eat or hug me or- or-" She cut herself off, big, fat tears pouring down her cheeks as she whimpered, "Are you mad at me 'cuz I let you get hurt?"

Petting tangled red-gold hair back from her face, I frowned and asked, "What do you mean, half-pint? What happened to me wasn't you fault."

Her bottom lip quivered as she guiltily dropped her gaze. "I tried to make it better," She sniffled, "But every time I changed it, it got worse."

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. This was the conversation I'd been dreading. But it was time and I had to do it right.

"What did you see, baby?" I pressed quietly.

Her slight frame trembled uncontrollably as she said, "I didn't like the unicorn dream. I didn't wanna be there when it happened 'cuz it was gonna be scary so I decided I wouldn't go with you to the alley. But then you and Uncle Charlie wouldn't have anybody to watch you and keep you from going into the store that got blowed up and you would have got blowed up, too! I tried making you stay home with me, but then all the kids in the storytime at the bookstore, they- they- those bad men in the masks, th-they hurt them real bad and it made me cry when I saw! I didn't want them all to have to die! I'm sorry, Leila! I tried but I couldn't fix it!"

She began to bawl hysterically against my shoulder. It kind of hurt, seeing as the damn thing was still a bit sore from having been so recently dislocated, but I didn't have the heart to push Roo away. "Shh," I soothed, rubbing circles on her tiny back, "It's not your fault, sweetheart. You were very brave and you did exactly the right thing."

"Then why are you leaving me?" She whimpered, almost too quietly to hear.

Despite my shock that she knew I was going away, I maintained a cool faade, pulling back to look into the girl's teary blue eyes and telling her very frankly, "It's not about you, baby. I would stay forever if I could but I have to go do this. I have to save someone and then I'll come straight back here and I won't have to leave again for a long time."

"But you can't go all by yourself!" She blubbered, throwing herself hard and painfully against my chest again, "You'll be sad and lonely! And you could get hurt and nobody would be there to take care of you!"

"Did you see me getting hurt?" I questioned, dreading the answer because I knew I would still have to go regardless of what it was.

"Not real bad," Roo sniffled heartbrokenly, clinging tight to my neck, "But you have to fight a lot. And you talk to a boy who makes you cry."

I sighed heavily. That really wasn't anything I hadn't been expecting already.

"But I'll be fine," I reassured her, "I'm strong and I'll come back. Promise."

We sat in silence for a few moments, drawing warmth and comfort from each other's bodies. Finally, I asked, "Do you tell anyone else what you see in your dreams?"

The worst of her tears having subsided, the girl sniffed and weakly answered, "No. But I made my daddy not go out once 'cuz I saw he was gonna get beated up and taken away by the bad men. I lied and said I was sick so he stayed home and made me soup and we played dollies."

I chuckled, giving her a tight squeeze and stating, "That was the right thing for you to do. Being able to see ahead makes you a very special little girl."

She looked up at me, pouting and rubbing her puffy eyes as she asked, "Really?"

"Really," I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "I don't know anybody else who can do what you do. It's a gift you have. You can keep the people you love away from harm and, trust me, there is nothing greater."

A slow, shy smile came over her pretty face.

"So you have a big responsibility, baby," I went on, knowing it was probably too much to place on her little shoulders but unable to think of anything else I could do. "When you see danger coming," I said, "You have to tell someone, even if you think you can change it all by yourself. Can you do that for me?"

Still pouting, she nodded.

"Alright then," I said, pulling her into another hug, "We're going to talk about this some more when I get back. I want you to stay in the house until then. Can you do that for me?"

She gave a sheepish nod.

"Alright," I said, petting her unnaturally soft hair, "Then I've got to get back to work. I've really got a lot to do."

"Ok," She sadly agreed. After a moment, the girl tentatively added, "But... can read me a bedtime story tonight?"

I smiled at the little pixie, stating, "Ya. I think I can handle that."

xxXxx

The day of the wedding came. It was a lovely ceremony, small and intimate. Tonks wore her hair blue and I got to give my father away.

Afterwards, there was a boisterous reception for the guests, mostly Order members. The date was December 31st so the party doubled as a New Year's celebration. I was planning to slip away just as soon as Remus and Tonks lit out for their honeymoon, which I was hoping wouldn't take too long. The best and brightest of the auror class would be expecting me to meet up with them at around one the following morning.

Charlie didn't leave my side the entire night. He was terse and moody. We didn't dance.

At about three minutes to midnight, the music picked up and the couples started pairing off in anticipation of the traditional good luck kiss. Though he hadn't said much to me all night, Charlie had his arm around my shoulders. He was playing idly with my newer, shorter hairdo, toying with the loose curls Ginny had styled into the jaw-length cut.

Remus and Tonks approached us, holding hands and both beaming. My father wrapped me into a tight hug. "We just wanted to say goodbye," He stated happily, "We're probably going to be leaving a little after midnight. Thank you so much for the trip."

"You're welcome," I said, hugging him fiercely because I didn't want it to be the last time and it very well might have been, "Congratulations again. Have a great time."

"I'm sure we will," Tonks contributed brightly, smoothing down her knee-length white gown before messing it up again by leaning in to give me a hug, too, "Don't get in too much trouble while we're gone, ya?"

I gave a forced chuckle, answering, "Of course not."

They moved away and Charlie and I sat in silence for a few moments, observing the buzz of activity as everyone moved around getting ready for the stroke of the new year. After a few long moments, he stood up, grabbing me lightly but firmly by the elbow and dragging me out of the room.

"Charlie," I cried, not fighting as much as I might have on any other day because I was still healing, not to mention feeling guilty, "What are you doing?"

He was gentle but forceful, backing me up against a wall in the dim hallway. And then he just... stared.

I didn't last ten seconds before I started squirming uncomfortably under the intensity of his blue, blue gaze. "What?" I demanded weakly, unable to look away but feeling my resolve breaking down the longer I didn't.

From inside the enlarged party room, I heard the countdown start.

"_Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven..._"

"Do you really want to start off a new year keeping secrets from me?" He accused, voice low and rumbling with barely contained anger, "Lying to me?"

"_Twenty-one, twenty..._"

My mouth hung open in dumb shock. "I... I..." I stammered, paralyzed with guilt and dread.

"_Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, __eleven_"

"I-I'm sorry," I told him, tearing my eyes away from his and dropping my gaze to my feet, "I have to go."

"_Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one... __HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!_"

And then Charlie kissed me, hard and desperate and making every one of my injuries ache but it so didn't matter because I'd just told him I was leaving and he _kissed me_. I wound my arms around his neck, melting with a sigh.

As abruptly as the kiss began, it was over. And Charlie looked just as pissed as he had before. He took me by the arm again, leading me farther away from the deafening party.

xxXxx

"Why didn't you just _tell me_?" He growled, prowling near the door of my room as he watched me change and gather supplies out of all their various hiding places.

"Because," I answered timidly, not looking him in the eye and trying to hide my cringe as bending over to pry up a loose floor board made my ribs scream in pain, "I knew you'd react just like you are now."

"Of course this is how I'm going to react to hearing my bloody girlfriend is leaving me on some blackmail suicide mission to Merlin knows where!!" He shouted in reply, not bothering to keep his voice down because my room had long ago been completely sound-proofed. I was severely regretting making that addition.

"It's not a _suicide_ mission," I argued petulantly, setting my stuff knapsack by the door, "It's simple search and rescue. I used to do this kind of thing even before my mom died. I've been training my whole life for these situations. I know what I'm doing."

"Knowing what you're doing doesn't stop other people from trying to kill you!" He screamed, tearing at his short ginger hair, "Or have you already forgotten your recent brush with death?"

"Like I could," I snapped in reply.

He didn't pay much attention to my comment, continuing to pace and rant. "You almost _died_!!" He yelled furiously, handsome dress robes becoming more and more crumpled as he fidgeted in them, "You aren't even fully healed yet!! What the hell could you possibly be thinking running head first into more danger?"

"I don't have a choice!" I shouted back, beginning to get frustrated and annoyed, "Scrimgeour was going to have me carted off to Azkaban if I didn't agree to do this! And he made me make an unbreakable vow so I can't back out!"

Charlie seethed, spitting several colorful curses for the Minister of Magic under his breath before bellowing, "You should have told me in the hospital! You should have called for me! I could have done something!"

"What could you have done, Charlie?" I asked him, watching his eyes bug out of his head as I pulled out a handgun and checked the clip before stuffing it into the waistband of my jeans, "It wouldn't have solved anything to try to fight me out. You would have ruined your life, ended up on the run or locked up with me."

"I don't care," He stated unhappily, crossing the room in just two long strides to take the heavy duffel of guns away from me when I tried to pick it up with the arm I'd injured. "I don't want you to do this," He said, anger turning to panic as it became more and more likely that I was really going to leave, "Please, don't do this."

I swallowed hard, closing my eyes before replying, "I have to. I don't have a choice."

"I know you," Charlie growled, hand ghosting my arm, "You don't let anyone tell you what to do, not ever. You're too damn stubborn. You'd go to Azkaban just to prove a point."

I bit my lip.

Tilting my chin up until my gaze met his, Charlie fiercely demanded, "There's something else, isn't there? What aren't you telling me?"

I resisted answering for about two seconds and then blurted out, "World-wide immunity for all the crimes I've ever committed... I'll be free."

"That's never mattered before!" He argued heatedly, eyes locked intensely with mine.

"I wasn't with you before," I stated quietly, begging silently for him to understand, "I- I want a life with you and I can't give you any of the things you deserve if I'm always hiding or on the run. This is a second chance."

He stepped back like I'd just burned him, staring for a few moments before giving a bitter laugh. "So you're saying that rushing off to get yourself killed is all for me?" He mocked, pacing again, "Aren't I just the luckiest fucking bloke on the planet!"

"I'm not going to get myself killed," I insisted once more, ready to leave now that all my bags were together but unsure as to how I could make an exit with Charlie in such a snit.

"Damn right you're not!" He retorted furiously, whirling on me once more, "Because I'm coming with you! Someone's got to watch your back!"

"No!" I shouted, horrified at the thought, "You can't! Charlie, you have no idea what you're doing!"

"Pretty sure I do," He said, stomping over to my closet and pulling out a packed knapsack of his own. My mouth fell open to ask how the hell he'd know to have a bag ready but he cut me off, cynically explaining, "I knew you were hiding something when Roo made me pack this and hide it in here! She made me swear I'd keep you safe, no matter what! That was days ago and it didn't make sense until now! How could you tell her and not me? She's two years old!"

"She figured it out on her own!" I screamed furiously, mentally cursing that little tattle-tale, "She's a fucking psychic, alright? She knew about the attack and the explosion before they happened! She's been having prophetic dreams!"

That stopped Charlie right in his tracks, the redhead paling as his mouth fell open in an expression of dumb shock.

Before he could respond, I went on, "I think it's a side-effect of the inherited lycanthropy because I think I've had them, too!"

His blue eyes grew huge.

"This guy I'm after did something to me when I was a kid!" I shouted, "I had visions of him while I was unconscious in the hospital! My mom talked to him about power binding, about how I was in danger if people found out what I could do, and then he pointed his wand at my face and that was all I remembered! He could have answers for me and for Roo! I have to know!"

Charlie spent another long moment in deep shock before shaking himself out of it, gaping, "Did you tell Bill?"

"No," I stated flatly, "I'm waiting until I find out more. Roo has things under control."

"She's _two-years-old_!!" Charlie fired back, angry and incredulous.

"And she also understands that she's in real danger," I answered, still trying to think of a way past the huge dragon tamer standing in my doorway, "She's the one the Dark Lord is after, the one Percy warned us about. Just before the explosion, one of the Moros recognized her and said there was a reward for bringing her in."

My boyfriend's face went from pale to stark white. I don't think he even had any freckles left.

"She knows not to leave the house," I announced, "And to warn someone if she has anymore dreams of people getting hurt. It'll only be for a few days until I can get back with some answers."

He continued to stare speechlessly.

"Now please move," I said, "I have to leave."

"No!" He snapped, muscley body fully blocking the door, "I won't let go on your own! I'm coming, too!"

"Like hell you are," I said, getting annoyed, "You're not trained for this and I'm going to have a hard enough time as it is without one more person to babysit!"

He looked infinitely hurt and I quickly soothed, "Look, I just can't do my job if I'm worried about you. I won't be able to make the same moves knowing that you could get hurt as a result of them."

"You mean you won't be able to be as reckless!" Charlie snarled, "You won't go running into burning buildings and jumping off cliffs if you know I'm right behind you because you'd rather risk yourself than someone else!"

"_Exactly_!" I snapped, "I'm glad you get it! Now move!"

"NO!" He screamed once more. His wand was suddenly in his hand and I darted for mine out of pure instinct, too slow to prevent myself from losing it to Charlie's furious _accio_.

"Give that back," I demanded icily, quite out of patience with his tantrum. He was really crossing a line.

"No!" He said again, voice tinged heavily with desperation as his mind raced frantically for some way to keep me from going without him, "Not until you agree to let me come!"

"Fine," I responded peevishly, making an attempt at shoving past him, "Keep the damn thing. You're still not coming."

Later, Charlie told me that he just panicked. I was leaving and he couldn't stop me. After having so recently sat vigil at what was very nearly my deathbed, he couldn't handle watching me go off alone into more danger. He did the only thing he could think of to make me stay.

"_Petrificus __totalus_!" The man shouted, sounding quite surprised that the words were leaving his mouth and even more surprised when the spell left his wand and hit me directly in the chest.

My whole body went rigid and I instantly began to freak the fuck out. Ever since being tied up and forced to watch my mom's torture and murder, I've had a bit of an issue with being restrained in any way. Charlie knew damn well how terrified I was and he did it anyways. I was so mad I could barely see straight. Add that to not being able to move or breathe and I think it's fair to say that I was not happy.

"I'm sorry," Was the first thing that he said, just seemingly endless seconds after the spell hit me, "I'm so sorry." He approached me cautiously, eyes wide with fear like I was going to throw off the curse at any second and beat him to a bloody pulp. I was trying like hell to do just that but it wasn't happening for me, damnit.

"Just..." Charlie instructed frightenedly, holding his left wrist up against my right one and swishing his wand around them both, "Try to breathe, love. I'll let you go in a second."

I couldn't breathe though, not at all. Couldn't concentrate on what Charlie was doing because my chest ached from trying and failing to pull in oxygen. My vision was fuzzy and my head hurt from trying desperately to battle down rage and terror in equal doses. I was sure I was going to cry because I could clearly see my mom in my mind, see her being beaten and raped and killed and I couldn't get it to _stop_.

"I'm going to take the spell off," Charlie told me, his trying-to-be-soothing voice barely penetrating my haze of panic and fear, "And I'd, um, like you to try to remember that I only did this because I love you, alright?" He paused for an answer and I wanted to throttle him. "Alright," He answered my silence, waving his wand over my head.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!" I shrieked immediately, winding up and punching him as hard as I could, a crushing right jab straight to his eye socket and a quick left uppercut to his jaw. The second shot knocked him out cold, his big burly body crumbling in a great heap to the floor.

I was completely livid, far too pissed off to care that I'd just KOed the man I loved. I just really needed to be out of there, hurriedly gathering up my dropped wand and heading for the door.

That was when I felt the first tug on my wrist and realized that I was being held back. I looked down and saw nothing but tried to pull away once more from the invisible force and what looked to be a length of translucent silver cord connecting my right wrist to Charlie's left blinked briefly into view.

The damn idiot tied himself to me.

"Just what I fucking need," I grumbled, annoyed but not too worried. I'd been breaking curses all my life. I didn't think for even a second that Charlie would be able to come up with anything I couldn't get out of.

Fifteen minutes and about three hundred countercurses later, I was _irate_ and the man at the heart of the problem was slowly fading back into consciousness. "No use, love," He taunted bitterly, wincing as he probed the tender shiner on his left eye, "There's no way out of these ropes unless I let you out. S'what we use to restrain the dragons."

"Take it off me," I demanded, furious and dangerous and about three seconds away from knocking his arse right back out, "_Now_."

"No," He answered stubbornly, yanking hard and making me fall aprubtly at his side. His gaze locked intensely with mine, he growled, "I'm sorry for hitting you with the body bind. I didn't plan it and I just couldn't think of anything else." He gave the rope connecting us another sharp tug, adding, "But now you're stuck with me and you can either spend a week trying to track down a reversal charm, which you _won't_ because I've modified the spell and only _I_ know how to get out of it, or we can leave before people start noticing we're gone."

I knew he was telling the truth and wanted to smash his face into the floor but I restrained myself, glaring heatedly and snapping, "This isn't a game."

"I'm not having fun!" Charlie responded peevishly, also getting to his feet and making it a point to tower over me impressively. "This," He shouted, waving our joined wrists around, "Is not my idea of fun! It certainly wasn't Plan A because I'm sort of a bit pissed at you right now!"

I clenched my jaw tightly, willing the laser vision I'd been hoping for since I was six to choose that moment to kick in. When it seemed I was going to be once again disappointed on that front, I hissed, "If you ever pull this shit again, we're through."

"Fine," Charlie answered, voice tight and dark as he summoned up just as much venom as I had, "If you ever lie to me again, we're through."

I had to consciously keep myself from cringing as the very thought made me want to throw myself into his arms and beg for forgiveness.

"Fine," I responded instead, turning my back, "Get the damn bags."

xxXxx

We slipped out of the house at about 12:30 in the morning on January 1st, 2000. I made Charlie carry all the bags and made it a point of yanking hard on the spelled rope connecting us every few minutes. We did not speak.

The three aurors were waiting for me at a predetermined location in a park about five blocks away. "Who's he?" Isaiah Vaughn, a strapping blonde man with large green eyes, asked, nodding hesitantly at Charlie.

"He wasn't in the plan," Evan Rhys, the brunette who could have been Isaiah's brother except for the fact that he looked nothing like him, grumbled suspiciously, no doubt recognizing Charlie from the brawl in the hospital.

"He's my valet," I snapped, feeling the redhead bristle at my side but not bothering to spare him a glance, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," Annabella Foster, a lanky young woman with her auburn hair tied back into a pair of long pigtails that brought far too much focus to her overly large ears, "Aurors Foster, Rhys, and Vaughn, awaiting your orders."

"Good," I stated, putting up a quick privacy charm to prevent eavesdropping before continuing, "We'll be taking a relay port to Mexico City and I'll meet up with my contact to find out where we can find Mateo Arroyo. From there, we're most likely heading into Chiapas, probably a heavily forested mountain area. I hope you're prepared to hike long distances because if you fall behind, I will leave your arses. Any questions?"

"Yes, ma'am," Isaiah said, flicking shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes as he casually raised a hand, "Who is the contact we're meeting?"

"The contact _I'm_ meeting doesn't concern you," I answered briefly, "And don't call me ma'am. My name is Leila." I pointed to the man attached to my wrist, stating, "His name is Charlie. You can call him boy."

"Fucking better not," Charlie growled at the aurors, burning a hole in the side of my head with the heat of his glare.

"Anything else?" I asked, ignoring him completely.

Evan raised his hand and waited for me to nod at him before giving a slightly sadistic, toothy smile and questioning, "How many Moros did you kill? Your stats only have a rough estimate."

"All of them," I chirped happily, "I single-handedly wiped out every last one. Unfortunately, He-Who-Sucks-Dick seems to have had a recruitment drive because their numbers are up again. Let's see if we can't do something about that while we're on this little mission, shall we? I'm giving you orders to kill enemy combatants on sight. Understood?"

I got some dutiful nods and turned towards Charlie, digging through the pack that he had slung over one of his shoulders. I caught a glimpse of the ugly purple shiner I'd given him and didn't know whether to feel awful or vindicated.

I found the portkey I'd made out of an old newspaper. It would take us to a random location where we'd grab another portkey and port to yet another random location and on and on until finally reaching the outskirts of Mexico City. Ports in that style were far harder to trace in case anyone, friend or foe, came looking.

"Grab hold," I instructed, having everyone gather round as I got set to activate the portkey. Just before we left, I briefly caught Charlie's eye, saw he was still worried and angry and sorry in equal measures. Being that he was also still tied to my wrist and I felt the exact same way, the trip promised to be an interesting one.

We left with a rush of wind and a tug at the navel.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sorry for the delay on this one folks. Hope you enjoyed it anyways and I'd love to hear what you thought :D


	18. Part 18: Ojos Verdes

Part 18 - Ojos Verdes

_Name: Mateo Diego Arroyo y Espinosa Castillo_

_Age: 25_

_Height: 5'11"_

_Weight: 200lbs._

_Race: Hispanic/Mayan._

_Hair Color: Black_

_Eye Color: Brown_

_Family: Mother, __María de la Luz Espinosa Castillo, deceased. Father, Eduardo Felipe Arroyo, retired Gringotts cursebreaker. Younger Brother, Joaquin Ramón Arroyo y Espinosa Castillo, student._

_Bio: Mother killed in Death Eater attack when he was six. Lived in various cities throughout Mexico during the next twelve years, following father on cursebreaking missions. Arrested by Muggle authorities for misdemeanor possession at seventeen, found not guilty. Estranged from father and brother. No history of employment. Current location unknown, suspected to be somewhere in state of Chiapas and associating with the Zapatista rebel group._

I read over the file once more as we approached the Universidad Pedagógica Nacional's Mexico City campus, located in the Tlalpan borough. It really captured so little of Teo's life; Joaquin's file was even worse. There was hardly a passing mention of all his volunteer work, his intelligence and complete selflessness. There was nothing at all about him studying to be a special education teacher at the U.P.N.

I glared down at my left wrist, at the just barely visible length of translucent silver cord attaching me to Charlie. I was still absolutely livid with him for what he'd done. The more pissed 

I got, the shorter and more visible the charmed rope became. I knew from recent experience that I needed to calm down or I was going to end up wrist bone to wrist bone with the infuriating man and I just didn't think I could deal with the contact at the moment.

It was just the two of us walking along the street. I'd ditched the auror kiddies in a deserted stretch of countryside and instructed them to become proficient at shooting while we were gone. Training with muggle weapons wasn't a part of the typical program and I didn't want them just spraying my ammo everywhere. It would be wasteful, not to mention dangerous.

I would have by far preferred to leave Charlie as well but, seeing as he was tied to me, that was a problem. It made me nervous that he wasn't getting in the same shooting practice as the aurors because he _was_ going to have to carry and gun and, most likely, shoot people with it. Forcing myself to look at his handsome face instead of the ridiculous rope around our wrists, I resolved to make sure he got some private tuition when I had the time.

But, right then, I had to find Joaquin Arroyo. I hadn't spoken to him or Mateo in a little over two years and I was sure the brothers hadn't spoken to each other in just as long. However, Joaquin was the only person on the planet who always knew how to find Teo. Whether or not they were fighting, Joaquin always kept tabs on Teo, and Teo always tried to check in with at least letters when he disappeared on whatever his latest scheme happened to be.

I didn't want to have to see either of the young men. We'd left things in sort of an... awkward situation.

When the Moros buried me alive with my mom's body, I honestly did not expect to survive. I hadn't been expecting survival for quite some time and waking up in a hospital was just... jarring.

And I ran.

Joaquin had been one of my best friends since I was a kid. We'd even had... sort of a little puppy-love romance a few years before. It didn't get very far just because we got split up so often and we were both really good kids. We weren't the type to jump into anything less than a real relationship for anything less than real love.

I don't remember making the decision to go to him or what I'm certain was a frantic global trek to make it to the apartment he'd just gotten near the university; he was fulfilling his dream of studying to be a teacher, to help learning-disabled kids in poor neighborhoods. When I finally arrived, he wasn't home.

But Mateo was. As much as Joaquin was a sweetheart, Teo was sort of... not. It wasn't that he was a bad guy. He just got himself in a lot of trouble, most of it on purpose; he never met a rule he that didn't need breaking and was a bit of a crass loudmouth. That possession charge from when he was seventeen was kind of the culmination of a childhood of lawbreaking and general mayhem and started him on a rather lucrative criminal career. Where Joaquin like to try to make a difference in the world through peaceful demonstration, trying to make things better for everyone, Teo was much fonder of open subversiveness and disobedience, trying to tear down the system and make things better for himself, leaving it to people like his little brother to rebuild from scratch. He was a good friend though, and charming, too, which was why he got found not guilty and could talk his way out of or into just about anything.

Teo brought me inside the apartment. He was staying with his brother because he never got along with their father and had been sort of disowned when he got arrested; he was unemployed but could always count on Joaquin for food and a bed; the two were close.

He was ecstatic to see me because news of my mom's and my disappearances had been widely passed along through our circle of friends and colleagues; we'd been presumed dead.

Of course, I was completely hysterical and couldn't answer even a single question about where we'd been and what the hell had happened.

Mateo's not bright but he tries. After two hours of being unable to reach Joaquin, of even trying to call his dad--who he hadn't spoken to in years--of having me sobbing into his chest, inconsolable and incoherent, he got me to take a handful of pills and I calmed right down. I don't know what they were but I'm guessing something illegal or at least tightly controlled.

They made me feel just... numb. I could hardly feel anything at all as I blankly slurred that my mom was dead. It was terrifying because, I vaguely realized, that numbness was the same one I'd experienced when I'd finally succumbed to oxygen starvation in the grave, suffocating on mud and my mom's blood. There'd been an eternity of seconds where I hadn't yet passed out but couldn't struggle any longer, either. I suddenly felt just like that again, too numb and too tired to even cry as I stared across the couch at Teo's shocked, mournful expression.

But then he got mad, pacing and ranting and frothing mad, shouting some downright crude swears I'd never before heard uttered with such fire and intensity.

And I wanted to feel like _that_: angry, not numb, not scared and alone and depressed, not empty and hopeless and completely fucking _lost_.

And I somehow got it into my head that I could take some of that intensity from him, absorb it into my body, and I reached out and grabbed his hand, pulled him down beside me and kissed him fiercely. My eyes stayed open, blinking through a fog of drugs and tears.

Teo tried to push me away, brought back down to earth by what I was doing, by the knowledge that it wasn't right. That there was something very wrong with me.

I _begged _him, "_Please, please_," through tears as I forced myself clumsily into his lap, sobbing that I just wanted to feel _something_, that I was a virgin and couldn't let anyone take that from me, rape me of pretty much the last thing I had left of who I used to be before that horrible month. I wanted him to help me make sure no one ever took what little innocence I had left, that the last shred was leaving on my own terms. I was suddenly so utterly terrified that I would be raped just like my mom.

I'm aware that the thought process was a little bit irrational but I was hardly in a rational sort of place in my life. Besides the drugs, I was dehydrated and malnourished, crazed with trauma and grief and fear, and my choice somehow made sense, and I asked Teo to help me do this one thing because he was there and I couldn't wait.

Of course, he tried very hard to talk me out of it. But I was very insistent, throwing my loose, pliant body at him over and over until he relented rather than hurt me in an attempt to restrain me, see me hurt myself in the course of the frenzy. Because I was becoming slightly violent towards myself, sobbing and slamming into walls and furniture and he couldn't say anyting to calm me down but, "yes."

It was painful. And awkward. And I sobbed for Teo not to stop every time he did.

And then Joaquin came home. I really only remember the shouting, the crying. The brothers getting in a vicious fist fight just as I was running away in tears.

And I hadn't talked to either since.

"Are we there yet?" Charlie demanded, surly and already getting sunburned, the purple shiner I'd given him standing out starkly around his left eye.

"Does it look like we're there yet, boy genius?" I fired back in reply, not bothering to take my eyes off of the street spread out before us.

He glared at the side of my head. "How much longer?"

With a vicious growl, I stopped in the middle of the deserted sidewalk and whirled on my irritating boyfriend. "It's bad enough you came," I snapped cruelly, completely out of patience, "Don't make things worse by annoying me! We'll get there when we get there!"

He gritted his teeth, looking like he would be more than happy to scream right back at me but instead hissing, "Fine."

We walked along in a tense silence for about fifteen more minutes before finally reaching Joaquin's apartment door. I knocked.

Joaquin looked almost exactly how I remembered him, the same dark baby face, dark eyes large behind thin glasses, neat black hair, lean, wiry build. His dark mouth dropped open when he saw me.

"_Hola, mi amigo_," I stated with a nervous smile, "_¿Cómo estás?_"

"What are you doing here?" My friend demanded, gaze suddenly narrowing and filling with the hatred I had expected, "Don't you have a killing spree to be on?"

I winced at the barb, answering, "I need your help. I have to find Teo."

He flinched like he'd just been stung. "So you want to kill my brother now?" he snapped, "_Dios mio_, Leila, what happened to you?"

"Lots of things," I said softly, trying and failing not to be affected by my friend's words, "But right now, I'm not looking for Teo to hurt him. He has information that I need. Do you know where he is?"

Joaquin laughed, shaking his head. "My brother is where he always is," The young man responded, "With criminals who masquerade as revolutionaries."

"I don't have time to debate politics with you," I interrupted, "Please, just tell me where I can find him."

"And why should I do that?" He responded angrily, clearly about three seconds from slamming the door right in my face.

"Because I need your help," I stated pitifully, open and sincere and praying with everything in me that our friendship wasn't so dead that he would turn me away, "Please, Joaquin. I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't important."

His expression softened almost imperceptibly, and I knew we were in.

xxXxx

Joaquin's place was small, a sparsely decorated one bedroom, one bath. He asked Charlie and me to take a seat on a lumpy sofa while he looked through his desk for Mateo's last set of instructions for how to get in contact. While he was searching, Joaquin tried to make chit-chat.

"Did you have any trouble coming into the country?" He questioned, sounding completely disinterested, "The last I heard, you had both muggle _and _magical law enforcement after you. I would think someone would take issue with a wanted murderer walking through customs." He wasn't very good at small talk even when he wasn't furious, so don't judge him too harshly.

I felt Charlie tense angrily. It was quite hard to keep from showing just how hurt I was from my friend's remark, but I did it anyways. "I have clearance," I stated flatly, "The fugitive status has been revoked."

Joaquin made a face at me over his shoulder before going back to leafing through a stack of parchments. "_Who did you have to sleep with to pull that off?_" He asked jokingly, bitterly, switching to Spanish because he'd caught on to the fact that Charlie didn't speak the language and would probably hurt him if he understood the remark.

"_No one_," I replied, trying very hard to ignore my discomfort as well as Charlie's. He squirmed beside me, awkward and annoyed at being left out of the conversation.

Joaquin seemed to notice him fully for the first time, discretely questioning, "_Who's he? A hostage or an accomplice?_"

"_He's my boyfriend_," I admitted stupidly, letting my big fat mouth run away with my brain.

Realizing my mistake too late to change it, I watched Joaquin grind his teeth angrily, brown eyes throwing daggers at both me and Charlie. "_How nice_," He commented sarcastically, "_I hope you're very happy together. Does the killing turn him on, or is that just you?_"

"_You don't know what you're talking about_," I argued sharply, "_I'm sorry for what happened between us, but I won't apologize for what I've done since. Those people deserved to die. I didn't enjoy the killing, but the world is a better place without them in it_."

"_Hitler had a similar way of thinking_," Joaquin snapped.

I choked down tears. The man who used to be my best friend had just compared me to Hitler, and he was dead serious.

Charlie was sort of catching onto at least the tone of our argument. He didn't get what we were talking about but he was fairly sure that, whatever Joaquin had just said, it was responsible for bringing me close to tears. And that was _not_ ok with him. He was going to do something about it.

But, before he could, I stood and asked, "Can I use your bathroom?"

Uncaring, Joaquin shrugged and pointed to a door. I walked towards it, nearly turning and biting Charlie's head off when he began to follow. But then I remembered that he was tied to me, the idiot, and that there was nothing I could do but let him trail along in my wake. No matter how strangely Joaquin thought the behavior.

No matter how hard it was to keep Charlie from hearing me cry as he stood just outside the bathroom door. I had to press both hands over my mouth and nose. I couldn't breathe and I felt like there were knives slicing between my ribs but I sobbed for ten minutes without making a sound.

xxXxx

Teo's letter said that Joaquin shouldn't try to contact him but did give a general location where he could be found in an emergency: La Selva Lacandona--the Lacandon Jungle in the state of Chiapas. The letter said that, if Joaquin ever needed to get in touch, he should go to Lacanja Chansayab, a small tourist village, and ask around for Señor Atsitapaz.

Zapatista spelled backwards. Cute. And exactly the sort of alias Mateo _would_ use.

I thanked my friend, I told him again that I was sorry, and then I left knowing that he would never forgive me.

Charlie and I made our way back to the auror kiddies. He stared in silence for most of the walk until finally observing, "You're crying."

I didn't even bother reaching up to feel the wetness on my cheeks. Damnit, I was so sure I'd gotten a hold of myself. "No, I'm not," I growled.

Laughing, Charlie combed his fingers through his short hair and bitterly teased, "You want to argue about the color of the sky next? I'm thinking it's looking a little _too_ blue."

"It's sweat," I snapped in reply, swiping furiously at my eyes and trying desperately to pull myself together, "Leave me alone."

I really was fine by the time we made it to where I left the auror kiddies. They had progressed to a passable level of firearms proficiency. I put them to work instructing Charlie with the guns while I made phone calls and occasionally snapped corrections. I had a contact two drop off another duffle bags full of weaponry. Within an hour, we were arriving at a small private airport and boarding a small private helicopter. I slid into the pilot's seat.

"Why aren't we porting or apparating?" The brunette one, Evan Rhys, asked nervously as Annie leaned over to make sure his seatbelt was properly fastened. (It wasn't. He'd tied the two ends together in a childish knot.)

"Because we can't," I answered, impatient with the question, "It's a sacred area with a lot of ancient protection rites surrounding it. The temple at Bonampak and other sites still have active charms and wards, but the magic used has become volatile over time. There's no way of telling how they'll react to the use of new magic in the vicinity. You could end up destroying a spell that's been in place for thousands of years, or you could turn traps onto yourself. It's just better not to take the risk, so we'll be minimizing our use of magic. None at all, if we can manage."

"Which is why you had us learn how to use the guns," Isaiah, the blonde one, supplied quietly, knowingly.

"Bingo," I deadpanned, going through my preflight checks and trying to clear us with the tower. Before long, we were airborne. Evan alternately freaked out and puked for the entire ride. Charlie sat in the co-pilot's chair, sad and silent.

xxXxx

The airfield I chose wasn't really an airfield, just a deserted stretch of jungle about five miles outside Lacanja Chansayab where I could land and adequately conceal my chopper. After setting down, I ordered Isaiah and Annie to take Evan to a nearby creek and wash the vomit smell off him. Charlie and I unloaded gear. And then we were stuck with an awkward few minutes of aimless silence while we waited for the kiddies to return.

Suddenly remembering the tube of sunscreen in my pocket, I took it out and wordlessly offered it to Charlie. After a brief moment of hesitation, he accepted it, muttering a sincere, "Thanks."

"You'll slow me down if you get burned," I snapped in reply, my mouth running away with my brain. But after what he did to me, I just couldn't bring myself to _not_ put emotional distance between us, "And anymore of your whining is going to drive me to drink."

I saw Charlie's rugged face harden as he tried to hide the fact that I'd hurt his feelings. again.

"Wouldn't want to hold up the mission," He growled, angrily slathering himself with the sunscreen. In any other circumstances, it would have been pretty hilarious to watch.

I didn't even crack a smirk.

When the kiddies returned, we loaded ourselves up like pack mules and headed out. The hike didn't seem too terribly strenuous to me. I mean, five miles. I can do that in a blink, maybe a blink and a half with a bag full of artillery weighing me down.

It took us almost three hours to reach the village. The aurors started out strong and then started to lag. I would've left them, but Charlie hung back, too. He was trying to help, taking bags off the kiddies and speaking quiet words of encouragement. And, well, there was no way I was leaving Charlie unsupervised. He was going to make it through this mission alive even if the rest of us had to die to ensure of it.

"Doesn't the auror program have endurance training?" I complained impatiently as we drew up close to the first of the humble, single-story buildings. They were all made of thin, sunbleached wood planks, with decaying palm fronds for roofs. A muddy dirt path pointed the way towards the larger group of buildings within the small clearing cut from the thick jungle. A river, Rio Lacanja, ran close enough that I could hear the sound of rushing water.

"Some," Isaiah replied, out of breath and flushed and dripping sweat in buckets, "But they never had us hike up a goddamn mountain in a hundred percent humidity with a hundred pounds on our backs."

Rolling my eyes, I snapped, "You're not carrying a hundred pounds. Fifty, tops. And it obviously should've been part of the curiculum. It has more real-world applications than that sir-ma'am nonsense they hammered into you." I let them take a breather on the outskirts of the village while I walked through and spoke with the inhabitants. Charlie followed.

"_¿Dónde está Señor Atsitapaz?_" I pestered nearly every person I came across, "_¿Sabe usted Señor Atsitapaz?_" No one was talking.

Frustrated after a fruitless hour, I took a break myself, slumping down into a slice of shade beside one of the buildings. Charlie sat beside me, silent and staring off into space. He took a drink from his canteen and then offered it to me. I took it and took a sip, pouring a small amount over my sweaty head. I handed it back. We got up and wandered back to the auror kiddies.

They were, of course, not where I left them. I had a moment of absolute terror. What if they'd gotten captured or killed? Despite not liking the troop of morons, I still wanted them all to make it through the mission relatively unscathed.

The _relatively_ part came into play when I heard their voices coming from inside one of the huts and decided that I was going to maim them.

"What the _hell_ are you three doing?" I demanded from the doorway of the hut, my voice icy and slightly frightening even to myself.

The auror kiddies jumped and whirled to face me, leapt up from almost untouched plates of pictes, traditional sweet corn tamales. All three fidgeted, guilty and awkward as they visibly fought the urge to salute. "We, uh," Evan rushed to explain, gesturing to a squat, gray-haired woman seated at the head of a small wood table, "We found Señor Atsitapaz... or, actually, _Señora_ Atsitapaz."

"_Hola,_" the woman stated, soft and friendly, smiling. She wore a plain white dress, faded but clean. She was missing several teeth. She had a broad, flat face and dark, reddish, deeply lined skin. Her eyes were a bright, chilling hazel, "My husband is the man you are looking for. He will return tonight. You and your friends are welcome to wait here. Are you hungry?"

It seemed too easy. I felt a deep unease. "_Sí, señora_," I replied, uncertain but unwilling to alienate her, "Thank you for your kindness."

Charlie and I took seats around the crowded table. Señora Atsitapaz served us the same meal as the kiddies, pictes and lukewarm water in mismatched jars. She was very nice.

There was still nothing about the situation I could bring myself to trust, and I slyly shoveled my meal to Charlie's plate while the old woman wasn't looking. Even though he kept shooting me looks of disapproval, he eventually stopped pushing the food and pouring the water back and just resigned himself to eating it.

Of course, my suspicions proved correct when, halfway through the meal, which had been thusfar pleasant and filled with some inane small-talk, Annie suddenly face-planted into her plate.

Isaiah, Evan, and Charlie all hesitated and then jumped to their feet, trying to pull weapons but already wobbly and unfocused and unable to manage the coordination. Within seconds, they had all flopped limply to the hut's wood floor, out cold.

By the time Señora Atsitapaz turned expectantly to me, I already had a pistol trained on her from across the table. "Clever old woman," I mocked, keeping an eye on Charlie's breathing. 

He'd consumed the most of whatever she'd used to drug the group, having eaten my share. "What did you give them?" I demanded, doing my best to make sure she knew I was dead serious about shooting her right in her treacherous head.

She gave me a soft, wrinkled smile. "Clever girl," she said, nodding at Charlie, "I did not see you feeding your share to the red one. But do not worry, he will be fine. It is only a strong sleeping herb." She stood upruptly, and I swear to God I almost shot her arse.

But the old bitch just kept smiling. "Be still," she told me, "I am not your enemy."

"That's seeming just a bit unlikely right now," I snapped back. She moved towards Annie, and I commanded, "Don't touch them."

"My name is not Señora Atsitapaz," she answered, still so calm, nonthreatening, "It is Soledad Navarro. And my husband died many years ago."

Laughing bitterly, I replied, "So you're a liar. Already knew that, _thanks_."

"Atsitapaz is a code word," the woman explained, patient, "If you know it, you seek the Zapatistas and mean no harm, but you are not one of them. I'm sorry, but you are not to be trusted. You would have been knocked out with your friends and taken into the jungle to meet with the rebel group. It is better this way. We are all protected from treachery and weakness."

That did relax me somewhat. It was a decent plan for protecting a headquarters; you go to sleep in an old woman's hut and wake up deep in the jungle, no idea how you got there, how to escape, or how to ever return. The only one in significant danger was the old woman, and she seemed somehow aware and accepting of that fact.

"I'm not taking any drug," I said, lowering my weapon but keeping it close and ready to fire, "If what you're telling me is true, I'll wear a blindfold on the journey, but only if my friends are kept close to me."

Soledad nodded, "That is reasonable." Again, she moved towards Annie and picked the poor girl's face out of the picte. Soledad very gently wiped Annie's cheek clean and carefully transferred her to the her back on the floor.

The both of us worked together to put Charlie and the other auror kiddies into the most comfortable positions possible. And then there was nothing to do but wait.

We sat at the table together. I, of course, refused all food and drink, despite reassurances that Soledad wouldn't try to drug me again. And I didn't relinquish my gun. "Men will come after dark," she told me pleasantly, "They will take you and your friends. The journey is several days. You should eat."

"No, thank you," I stated, eyes fixed on the steady rise and fall of Charlie's chest.

xxXxx

The two men who came that night were not happy with the arrangement. They and Soledad argued rapidly in Spanish for at least half an hour before she finally threw up her hands and gave up, leaving me to talk my own way in.

"_I won't be drugged_," I told them, speaking quietly in their own language, "_I also won't make trouble. I need to talk to Mateo Arroyo. He's an old friend. Check with him if you like. You have radios?_"

The taller of the two regarded me skeptically, answering, "_Yes, we have them... Mateo will know you?_"

"_Tell him it's Leila Kione_," I said, confident, "_He will know me_."

The taller one nodded to the shorter one, who nodded back and stepped outside. I heard the tell-tale crackle of radio static just a few moments later.

While we waited, the taller of the two men regarded me with absolute suspicion. He was dark-skinned, dark-haired, and, I suddenly realized, had the same bright hazel eyes as Soledad.

I nodded at the old woman, asking the man, "_Your mother?_"

He narrowed those bright eyes and didn't answer.

Soledad chuckled. "Yes, my son," she told me, bustling about, setting out more plates of probably undrugged pictes, "Chuy. His brother Hector is outside. Stubborn as mules, both of them."

"_Mama_," Chuy grumbled, exasperated.

I cracked a smirk.

Hector came back inside and gave me a small smile. "_Mateo vouched for you_," the younger man stated. He had deep brown eyes instead of bright hazel, but his skin showed more of the red tint that his mother's did. He looked to be in his early twenties, instead of mid or late like his brother. "_You will be blindfolded for most of the journey_," Hector said, "_But we will take you_."

Chuy grumbled, but moved to begin helping his brother transport the auror kiddies as well as all our gear and theirs outside. I held tight to Charlie's hand when they came back and together picked him up from the floor. I nodded goodbye to Soledad and set out.

xxXxx

I saw the boat for a few seconds before Chuy slipped the blindfold over my head. The vessel was really a wide raft with a motor and a beaten-up blue tarp put up for shade.

We stayed on the boat all night and all of the next day, going down the sometimes rough river. Hector talked to me a little, offered food and water that I politely refused. I didn't even want to touch my own provisions because I couldn't see what was being done to them. I didn't sleep. I didn't let go of Charlie's hand. I repeatedly checked that he was fully in the shade. 

Regardless of what I said, I just didn't want to see Charlie burned because I loved him and hated when he was hurting.

At the end of the long day of travel, when the scorching sun finally felt like it was going to disappear soon, Chuy steered the raft up onto the riverbank. He and Hector brought some supplies and then the auror kiddies off the boat and away into the jungle. Hector came back for Charlie, and I had to help carry the big lug, still blindfolded. I was exhausted and, by the time I finally got the all clear to stop, was feeling a bit weak and dizzy. The symptoms of dehydration were obvious, but I couldn't do much about them. I didn't trust supplies from Chuy and Hector or the provisions in our packs since I couldn't see what had been done to them.

I carefully sat beside Charlie's unconscious body, taking a moment to catch my breath while I listened to Chuy and Hector arguing over whether or not to let me take my blindfold off. Hector won and approached me to remove it.

Even in the sparse light of the setting sun, the cool shade beneath the thick, intense green tree canopy, everything still felt far too bright. I squinted and blinked, already developing a headache. Chuy was poking at a small campfire in the middle of the clearing. Charlie's black eye had swollen to a glistening royal purple.

"_Your friends will wake in the morning_," Hector told me quietly, "_We are going to stay here for the night_." He stared for a few moments, worried, and adding, "_You need to eat and drink. We aren't going to drug you_."

"_I'm fine, thanks_," I said, fully knowing just how stupid I was being but still unable to comply. They weren't likely to drug me now that we were so far away from anything I might recognize, now that they would probably need me conscious and able to walk myself through whatever trail they'd picked. We were most likely going to have to hike, and dragging my unconscious body would not have been helpful at all. But... I don't know. I guess I was feeling particularly untrusting. I've been told that it's a weakness of mine, my untrusting nature.

Hector sighed, murmuring, "_Alright. But if you go much longer without at least drinking, you're going to get very sick_."

With the little sunlight left, Hector and Chuy made sure all Charlie and the auror kiddies were in relatively comfortable positions, covered and protected, and then the brothers bedded down themselves and went to sleep.

I couldn't believe they hadn't set a watch. And, my paranoia again intensified, I stayed awake for the second (third? Who knew?) full night in a row.

xxXxx

Annie woke first in the morning, just minutes before the sun rose. She sat up, groggy and disoriented, and shoved a thick striped blanket off her lanky body. The girl looked around the clearing for a few minutes, swiping at her deep brown eyes before finally noticing me.

Quietly, her speech still a bit slurred, the girl hissed, "Where are we? What happened?"

I had, at some point, pulled Charlie's head into my lap and was stroking his big stupid forehead, trying my best to soothe the puffy flesh of the shiner I'd given him just days earlier. "Somewhere in the Lacandon Jungle," I answered, "You were drugged so that you could be transported without incident and so that you wouldn't be able to find your way back to the rebel base."

Annie seemed justifiably disturbed. "Nothing... happened, right?" the girl ventured.

"Nope," I chirped, "Just a long boring boat ride and a bit of camping. You feel alright?"

She nodded, cracking her neck loudly. "I feel like I slept on a forest floor," the young woman announced, reaching up to take out, comb with her fingers, and redo both of her long pigtails, "And like I haven't brushed my teeth in a few days, but otherwise fine."

"Good," I murmured, looking back to Charlie's peaceful face, "The others should wake soon."

And they did. Isaiah, then Chuy, then Hector, then Evan. Isaiah and Evan adjusted quickly to the situation, asked most of the right questions upon waking. My opinion of them would have increased somewhat had I not remembered how they managed to get themselves drugged in the first place.

Charlie slept late into the morning. (He had an excuse for falling victim; he wasn't trained as well as I and (supposedly) the auror kiddies were, not to mention that I'd fed him my tainted meal).

I was terrified that he wasn't going to wake. Hector assured me that wouldn't be the case, that, because Charlie had eaten my own portion of the drug in addition to his own, he would probably just sleep a bit longer than the others. Anyways, the brothers seemed to be in no hurry to go anywhere. In fact, they seemed to be waiting for something, if they way they kept looking off towards the jungle was any indication.

At around 10, Charlie began to stir, opened his eyes and blinked up at me from my lap, disoriented but not panicked. "Hey, beautiful," he murmured, voice rough from disuse.

For a brief moment, I managed to forget that I was still furious with him. I was just too relieved to be. I smirked and replied, "Hey, hot stuff."

"Where are we?" he asked, lazily nuzzling my hand, "'S'goin on?"

That's when I heard the truck. The engine was pretty loud but the vehicle itself didn't arrive until several minutes later, enough time to give Charlie the same short summary the auror kiddies had gotten.

When an old army hummer finally emerged from between a pair of thick tree trunks, Chuy and Hector had already gathered all the gear into a neat pile nearby. The auror kiddies were standing a few feet away, wary but awaiting orders.

Charlie struggled to his feet, stretched, brushed off, and, suddenly sheepish, offered me a hand up.

I accepted it. Unfortunately, as soon as I was upright, I was swamped by a wave of dizziness. The world went kind of black and fuzzy. And then I was on my butt on the ground.

"Are you alright, love?" Charlie demanded, cradling my face in both his big palms, checking my pulse and temperature and pupils.

"Fine," I insisted, doing my best to shake it off, to struggle back up. I teetered for a few moments before regaining my balance, pushing Charlie's concerned hands off me and walking towards the hummer. My boyfriend followed close on my heels but didn't try to touch me again. He seemed to remember that we were still fighting (or at least should have been).

Chuy and Hector were speaking quietly with two men who'd arrived. Both of them were shorter than the brothers. We weren't offered any introduction before being hustled into the back of the hummer. All the windows had been blacked out; the rear cab was hot and dim.

The ride started shortly after the hatch shut. We bumped and rocked along the uneven jungle path.

I like to think I lasted longer than I did before my head started to droop and rested against Charlie's shoulder. The steady hum of the engine, low conversation among the auror kiddies, between Chuy and Hector and the other two men, and the motion of the truck lulled me into an exhausted sleep even as I tried desperately to stay awake. The last thing I remember is Charlie pressing his lips close against my ear and whispering, "It's ok, love. I got you." And that was enough. I finally felt safe enough to let go.

xxXxx

I got maybe two hours of shuteye before a particularly violent lurch of the hummer brought me jolting into consciousness once more. At some point, Charlie had put his arm around me, tucking my body close into his.

Nice as it always felt to be close to him, the inside of the cab was far too hot for such contact. But Charlie stubbornly refused to let go when I irritably rolled my shoulders. He took a long swig out of a dirty water bottle before handing it to me. He wiped his mouth on the back of his arm and ordered, "Drink. We've all had some over the last hour, and none of us has shown any signs of being drugged."

I stared at it, suspicious.

Rolling his eyes, Charlie insisted, "Look, you're really dehydrated. You can either drink now or let yourself pass out again, and then I'll just pour more water down your throat when you do."

I glared but took the bottle and swallowed a few bitter gulps before shoving it back. I did already feel a bit better, so I had to believe Charlie's claim that he'd poured water down my throat while I was asleep. Bastard.

Most of the rest of the drive passed in uncomfortable silence, only Charlie's periodic insistence on my drinking more and my grumbling about it to break up the long day.

Because of the blacked out windows, I had no idea where we were being taken. But, if the bumpy trail was any indication, it was somewhere even deeper into the jungle.

We stopped again at nightfall. In another generic clearing with tall, intense jade-green trees and copious animal noises. I was understandably grumpy and barked orders at the auror kiddies until they had camp made. Chuy and Hector and the other two men--who I had found out were named Diego and Ruben, and who did not speak English--milled about while I had the kiddies doing the work.

I also made the kiddies responsible for watch that night. Actually, I believe my exact words were, "I have been up for days keeping track of your useless arses, and now I'm going to sleep. If I catch you slacking on the watch, I will kill you all."

But then I laid down and stayed hopelessly awake. It was a multitude of reasons: I didn't fully trust the auror kiddies, the ground was hard, the night was cold, my injuries from the explosion weren't entirely healed and ached terribly, and I had purposely bedded down on the opposite side of camp as Charlie (which, you know, was sort of a horrible idea as I hadn't really had a decent night's sleep without him next to me almost since we met).

I must've just sat in my sleeping bag, cold and sore and miserable, for over an hour, squirming occasionally and huffing with frustration as Chuy, Hector, Diego, and Ruben snored near the fire, while the auror kiddies spoke quietly, while Charlie lay still and silent. He was awake as well.

After what felt like forever, I heard him sigh and get to his feet. Ignorning inquisitive stares from the auror kiddies, he dragged his sleeping bag around the fire and set it up right next to mine, slid inside and cuddled up against my back. "I can feel you fidgeting and shivering through the cord," he whispered into my ear, throwing an arm around my midsection and tightening it when I gave a pissy growl. "Just... please, love?" he pressed, sounding so sad and pitiful and pleading, "It's hard to sleep without you next to me, and I know you feel the same."

For a few moments, I thought about saying no, about being my unfailingly stubborn self, but Charlie's steady warmth and familiar scent felt far too good. And I was so damn tired I could've started sobbing out of sheer exhaustion.

"Still mad at you," I hissed, snuggling into the redhead's embrace.

"Likewise," he murmured, voice low and rough, relaxed.

I was asleep within seconds.

xxXxx

Despite the sleeping arrangements, nothing changed between Charlie and I. We didn't talk to each other at all when we woke, when we packed camp and loaded the hummer, or while we were driving hours stuck inside the hot cab. No one else was really talking much either, so it's not like we were outcasts. The auror kiddies were tired and scared; the Zapatistas just didn't care that much about us. I still had a few words with Hector, but those were mostly about meals for my team and when we would be stopping and how much farther until we reached the base.

By nightfall, we were there. There happened to be a small, armed compound cut into the jungle. It had fences and guards and, as I saw when we made it through the front gate, clustered wood huts scattered throughout. Everything was beneath a mesh camo tarp, to protect the location from being spotted by plane. Everything was dim, spotted with sunlight.

Of course, after all that travel, I was too glad for _any_ destination to care very much about what it looked like (or what amenities it obviously didn't have).

And before I could take in much more of the surroundings, I heard someone calling out my name. I turned. And there was my old friend, Mateo Arroyo. He was pretty much exactly as I remembered him, save for a bit of a shorter hair cut. He ran towards me with long, loping puppy-dog strides, his skinny arms outstretched, his dark face split by a wide white smile. I found myself smiling back without meaning to. It felt good to see my friend, to see that he was happy to see me.

"_Hola, Teo!_" I shouted brightly, waving and jogging to meet him, laughing when he swept me into a tight hug.

Of course, I had to stop laughing about two seconds later when Teo lunged forward and sealed his lips to mine in a passionate kiss. The shock and confusion prevented me from shoving him away long enough for Charlie to rush over and yank Teo off me. And punch the smaller man hard in the face, send him flying through the air and then sprawling into the dirt.

And then there was a lot of shouting, mostly in Spanish but also some English from the startled auror kiddies as they tried to rush over but were instead subdued, forced to their knees at gunpoint with their hands on their heads--basically, standard prisoner position. I allowed myself to be shoved into a similar pose, not wanting to resist when Charlie had just gone and blown what little trust I'd managed to build with the rebels.

Charlie, however, was clearly not thinking of cooperating or of the possible bullet wounds that could result from failing to do so. He carried on swearing and shouting at Teo, who was, actually, trying to calm his people down and get them to back off us. Due to his swollen mouth and the blood gushing out of his broken nose, Teo was kind of incoherent and not having much success. Way to go, Charlie.

"Be quiet and calm the fuck down!" I screamed at my boyfriend, nervous about the nervous and_ armed_ Zapatistas pointing automatic machine guns at his stupid ginger head, "Thick as your skull is, I don't think it's going to stand up to a _bullet_!" To make things worse, guards started tripping over the cord attaching me to Charlie, and they were confused and shouting and thinking they were under attack somehow, getting jumpier by the second.

Pinned down on his stomach in the dirt by at least four guards, Charlie struggled to turn his head and glare. He was about as pissed off as I'd ever seen him, and if he didn't relax, he was going to get himself hurt. We could deal with the rest after he was no longer in danger.

Pleadingly, I ordered, "Just _stop_. Let me handle this."

He took a deep breath and, grudgingly, made his body go slack.

Step one: get Charlie to stop freaking out. Check.

Step two: manage not to get self and team shot... well, that was pending...

xxxxxxxxxx

I know it had been way too long since I updated. Humble apologies, but hopefully ya'll enjoyed this chapter and I can get more up soon. Reviews, as always, are appreciated :)


	19. Part 19: El Corazón del Guerrero

19 - El Corazón del Guerrero

So ending up at gunpoint thirty seconds inside the Zapatista rebel camp wasn't exactly how I envisioned my mission unfolding. But I hadn't planned on Mateo kissing me or Charlie attacking Mateo or the several dozen armed guards who rushed us afterwards. Well. You can't forsee every little detail.

And Mateo did step up pretty quickly and keep my team and me from getting shot. After he plugged his fingers in his bloody nose and finally managed to garble a coherent explanation out of his swollen mouth, of course. But Charlie's actions had already damaged more than Teo's face. The rebels were openly distrustful and insisted on locking the auror kiddies, Charlie, and me inside one of the buildings while they discussed what to do with us.

"I can't believe you did that," I growled at my pissed off, sulking boyfriend, "We were _in_, damnit! Teo vouched for me, and it probably wouldn't have taken more than a day or two for me to negotiate for this Snape jerkoff! Thanks to you, the whole deal might be blown! What the fuck were you thinking?"

Charlie looked up at me from one of the few chairs we were allowed, snarling, "You actually have to _ask_?"

Well, he was sort of right about that. It was pretty damn obvious. And, although inconvenient with the timing of his actions, Charlie was somewhat justified. I mean, I certainly would've decked any bitch dumb enough to put her skanky lips on my man.

But I simply snarled back and returned to pacing the small metal structure, occasionally grumbling insults at the auror kiddies and the world at large.

Several hours passed. The inside of the hotbox holding cell was excrutiating, probably only a few degrees shy of being an actual oven. It was certainly doing a good enough job of cooking us all alive. The walls were literally too hot to touch without frying skin, which Evan was good enough to demonstrate early on.

It was hot enough that I was tempted to strip down to my underwear, but I thought that would be unwise with Charlie in his crazy possessive mood. The auror kiddies proved not to have any similar cares, and all three gradually ended up in their skivvies. I was jealous but couldn't blame them. Isaiah and Annie were showing early signs of heat stroke and needed whatever relief they could get. We hadn't been given water, were stripped of wands and weapons and supplies.

And that was what finally got me protesting the confinement. I'd been willing to be patient, but not when it was going to end with members of my team dropping dead. We should've at least had water.

"HEY!!!" I shrieked, my throat dry and head pounding as I beat my fists against the thick metal door of the cell, giving myself heat blisters on the fiery metal, "_PLEASE GIVE US WATER!!! WE NEED WATER RIGHT NOW!!! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!!! I'VE BEEN VERY PATIENT, BUT IN ABOUT TWO SECONDS I'M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS FUCKING DOOR!!!_"

"Merlin, shut up," Annie growled, sprawled helplessly on the floor, "All you _ever _do is yell! And it's even more awful when it's in Spanish and no one can understand a bloody word!"

I didn't want to be too hard on her. Hostility is a symptom of heat stroke, besides the fact that it was a shitty situation in general. "I'm trying to get you hydrated before you die, you ungrateful bitch," I told her weakly, swaying dizzily. I suddenly felt like I had no energy at all. I probably had heat stroke just as bad, if not worse than the others, but I didn't feel like admitting it.

And then I was falling, slumping to the ground for the second time in as many days. Charlie put out an arm, trying to catch me, but he wasn't doing so great either, and I ended up taking both of us down.

He landed on top of me. Usually I don't mind him being on top of me, but it was just _too hot_. I groaned and shoved at his bare clammy shoulders but quickly gave that up. Too much effort. And Charlie wasn't moving. I would've been worried but I could feel his breath against my bare neck, his chest struggling to heave against mine.

"Why'd he kiss you?" Charlie murmured, sounding parched and pitiful, like he was wearing the sad-puppy face I could never resist.

I groaned again. "Too hot," was the only reply I could think of, the only thing going through my sluggish mind.

Charlie chuckled. "Know you are, love," he croaked, "But most people manage not to assault you with their tongues."

Which, you know, was funny. Given the situation, I found it funnier than I probably should've, but I think I needed the laugh.

Charlie rolled off finally but stayed stretched out beside me, breathing like he'd been running a marathon. Flushed red from head to toe but no longer sweating the buckets he had been earlier. We were all in similar states. If we didn't get water soon, we really were going to die.

I turned towards Charlie and told him, "I'm sorry."

He returned a weak smile, soothing, "Me too, love. Guess both being stubborn as hell is going to bite us in the arse occasionally. But that doesn't mean I want to be anywhere but at your side, damn the danger."

Shivering suddenly, I murmured, "I know. And I'm glad to have you at my side. Don't want you there sometimes, when you could get hurt. But I don't want anyone else there either."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" Annie fumed, "It's bad enough we got sent on this insane assignment and now we're locked in together and going to _die_!! Do we _really_ need to be subjected to this sappy bullshit?!"

"I never wanted to take you useless jackasses on this mission!" I fired back, though there wasn't quite as much spite in my voice as there would've been normally. I just couldn't summon the energy. "Your training is completely subpar, and the only reason you're here is because _you're not real aurors_! The minister could send you to babysit without having to get officially involved! And you've been absolutely nothing but a pain in my arse the entire time!-"

I had more, but Charlie reached out and took my hand, and my rage calmed. The dim light filtering in through a few of the roof joints seemed too bright.

Not long after, Mateo unlocked the door and entered with two other rebels. Each was carrying a large sloshing bucket of cool clear water.

Annie kind of growled and probably was trying to rush them for a drink, but she fell on her face instead.

Mateo looked around, confused and concerned. His gaze was mostly on me, his nose looking puffy and purple; remembering how his nose got that way was probably what kept Teo from getting any closer to where Charlie and I were sprawled. Finally, Teo shot me a cocky grin. "You sure know how to make an entrance, _chica_," he laughed, coming a few steps closer with the water despite Charlie's furious glare.

"Me?" I croaked, shivering and parched and dizzy, "That was all you, Teo. You and Chaz and your crazy macho bullshit."

Teo winked at Charlie and explained, "Ah, but I could not help myself. I was so glad to see you! I didn't know I'd be trespassing on another man's property."

"Watch that mouth," I growled, though it probably wasn't at all threatening, "I'm no one's property."

"_Sí, sí_," he chuckled, genuinely apologetic, "Forgive me. I misspoke. I don't have nearly enough opportunity to use my English down here, and it gets rusty. I know you cannot be owned or tamed." Seeming to remember why he was there, Teo brought the water close enough for me and Charlie to drink from the bucket, gesturing for the other two rebels to give the other two buckets to the auror kiddies.

"Sorry," Teo said, "I hope you haven't gotten too sick in here. I took me a long time to convince the men that you weren't dangerous." He grinned. "To us at least."

With my arms trembling uncontrollably, I scooped out several handfuls of water and drank quickly, making sure Charlie and the kiddies were doing the same. "Slow down," I told Annie, rolling my eyes as I watched her stick her whole head in one of the buckets and inhale close to half. She'd be puking soon for sure.

Teo laughed, clearly thinking the same thing. "So do I get introduced to your friends, _mia querida_?" he teased, beaming at Charlie.

I nodded, gesturing around and quipping, "Charlie. Annie. Evan. Isaiah. Guys, Mateo Arroyo."

Several grunts from the kiddies showed they'd heard. Charlie said nothing, but his glare spoke volumes.

I splashed water onto my head and neck, sighing with relief.

We sat in blissful silence for a long moment.

"Well," Teo finally chirped, "I arranged a better building. And some of my friends want to talk when you're feeling better."

"I'll talk to them now," I insisted, eager to get negotiations underway, "Just- give me a minute. I'll be fine." I got skeptical looks from all around but still struggled to try to stand. Couldn't. Flopped back down at Charlie's side.

He rested his hand at the small of my back. It felt like a red-hot brand.

"We'll shoot for tomorrow morning," Teo soothed, "For now, let's get you out of here."

Annie doubled over and retched up her body weight in pale, watery vomit. Then sagged, unconscious.

"_Dunk her in the stream_," Teo told the two rebels with him.

They moved forward, but Evan and Isaiah closed ranks around the girl, fiercely blocking her half-naked body from view.

"It's ok," I said, "They're going to get her cooled down. Go with if you want, but she needs it."

The young men shared a hesitant glance but ultimately complied. Isaiah hoisted Annie's limp, lanky frame into his arms. Evan gathered their three sets of clothing, and off they went.

Charlie helped me stand, let me lean heavily against his shoulder while we followed Teo's chatter out into the sun.

I felt blind, clumsy and useless. Story of my life.

xxXxx

For the rest of the day, we lounged in cots inside a cool, shady building at the center of the camp. We were provided with plenty of clean food and water.

Annie recovered fine within a few hours and, while still kind of bitchy, was back to being mostly quiet about it.

I slept a lot, on and off, waking disoriented and confused, but Charlie was always there to calm me, feed me more water, soothe me back to sleep.

The sun had just set when I woke for real; Teo had insisted on taking the auror kiddies for a tour around the camp and dinner with the other rebels. Even without knowing any of this, I still woke feeling a lot better.

Charlie was stretched out beside me in the small cot, staring blankly at the wood ceiling, winding my short hair through his fingers. Deep in thought.

I brought him out of it with a playful nudge to the ribs.

He started and looked down, and I got caught up in the absolute openness of his clear blue eyes.

But that didn't last too long. Charlie smiled and pressed a clammy kiss to my temple. He handed me a half-full canteen and watched while I gulped down a few mouthfuls. The water felt amazing, but I still didn't want to overdo it. I stopped myself and relaxed back into the cot, against Charlie's solid form.

He went back to playing with my hair, probably expecting me to drop off and sleep again.

Instead, I murmured, "Charlie?"

He stopped for a moment, shifting nervously. "Ya, babe?"

Gulping down the sudden urge to cry, I choked, "I'm sorry."

He sighed, relieved, and his fingers started moving through my hair again. "I know, love," he replied, low and deep, "And I am, too. We covered this already. It's alright."

"No, it's not," I blubbered, losing control over the intense guilt that had been festering in my chest and gut ever since leaving the hospital. "I'm sorry," I sobbed, "I just- I wanted to be able to fix everything a-and I should've told you, but I knew what you'd say, and I _needed_ to fix everything!"

"Shhh," Charlie murmured, holding me close and letting me press my face against his shoulder, "You don't have to fix anything. You never did." He kissed my cheek, tender and sweet. "All I want is you, fugitive or not."

"But that's not fair!" I argued, sniffling almost violently, "You shouldn't have to give up a normal life because of me!"

"Who's the idiot who told you I wanted a normal life?" my boyfriend chucked, turning over onto his side so we were facing each other. His grin was magnificent. "I have an insane family and an unbelievably dangerous job," he said, "Not to mention the Order spy thing. Normal hasn't ever been an option. Part of why I love you is because you fit so very well into my abnormality."

"Shut up," I croaked, laughing despite myself, "I'm being serious. I couldn't ask you to go on the run with me. I couldn't take you away from your family. Your life."

He reached out, cradling my face in one massive palm, asking, "Why not?"

I thought the answer would've been obvious: "Because you'd probably say yes."

"In a heartbeat," Charlie confirmed, smiling softly.

"But I don't _want_ to take you away from everything," I replied, "From all the people who love you. I know what that feels like, and I couldn't do it to them or you. And as soon as I complete this mission and get my name cleared, I won't have to."

Scoffing, Charlie idly drew swirling protection sigils along my hipbone. "So that's why it's alright for you to run off into this mess?" he challenged, obviously angry, "Still injured, with no real backup? You're supposed to sacrifice to be with me, but I can't for you?"

"It's not the same." I suddenly couldn't meet his startling blue eyes. "You don't deserve to have to."

"And you do?" He grasped my chin, forced me to look up again.

I chokingly answered, "Yes."

Charlie stared at me for a few long moments, frowning and serious. A deep, thoughtful wrinkle furrowing the space between his ginger eyebrows.

I couldn't stand the look or the silence that came with it. "Charlie," I murmured, "Just... don't give me a speech, ok? I know what I've done. I know I'm not a good person. And I... I deserve this. I did so many bad things, then... then I found you. Remus. I have a family again, and I don't deserve to keep it. So maybe this'll balance things out. So Karma doesn't decide to make me pay the way I should."

"How's that?" Charlie inquired, clearly not buying my rationale.

I tried to look away again, but he wouldn't let me, holding my gaze as firmly as he held my face. "Losing you," I explained, shivering violently at the very thought, "Losing everyone."

The _again_ was implied.

"The world isn't random," I went on quickly, "People who do bad things get punished. And just because I did bad things to bad people doesn't mean I'm exempt. I have to be punished or else the whole thing doesn't work the way I need it to." I focused on a constellation of freckles on Charlie's earlobe so that I wouldn't have to watch the irritated, pitying expression that came over his handsome face.

"You can't possibly think that," he said, quiet, "You can't possibly hate yourself that much."

And that's when I started full-out bawling, tears and snot and desperate gasps for breath that wouldn't come--the whole messy, humiliating deal.

Charlie crushed me against his chest, murmuring soothing nonsense, "Shhh, come on, love. I didn't mean it. Don't cry, I didn't mean it."

"Did too," I gasped into his sweaty, tear-soaked t-shirt, "And you're right. You just... you don't know me any other way than how I am now! I used to be... I wasn't always like _this_!"

His body was solid, pressed down the length of mine. Almost uncomfortable with the penetrating heat it radiated. Like a fire I couldn't pull myself out of.

"We've all got our casualties," Charlie told me, "No one lives through a war without them, without changing. Saying that you deserve punishment, especially after what made you change in the first place, it's just crazy love. You were a victim, and now you're an avenger, a _hero_."

"I'm no damn hero!" I snapped, shoving hard in a sudden, irrational attempt at getting away from him, from his kindness and understanding.

Of course, Charlie was used to my sudden bursts of irrational violence. He held on tight and managed fairly effortlessly to wrestle me down onto my back. He pinned my fists over my head.

The cot creaked in protest of our combined weight.

I started to cry again, whimpering, "Stop. Let me go. Charlie."

His biting grip was gone in an instant. Contrite, he smoothed my sweaty, tousled hair, kissed my blubbering lips and whispered, "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

I fought to regain my control and, when I finally did, choked, "Not your fault."

Charlie gave me another stern, disapproving glance before his face softened. He sighed, sagging so that his whole body fell limply to cover mine. He kissed my throat, tangled our legs. "I may not have known you before you changed," he murmured, soft, "But I know you now, probably better than anyone else does. I know how amazing and sweet and smart and loving you are. How _incredibly_ strong. And I don't think it's fair that you're so hard on yourself."

An almost hysterical, entirely inappropriate laugh bubbled through my mouth. "I don't get a free pass just because you love me," I told him, teasing bitterly, "Just because you're a crazy bastard who can't seem to see me for what I am!"

He set his jaw mulishly, biting back, "You're the one who can't see yourself for who you are, who asks so damn much of yourself. For Merlin's sake, Leila. You saved a boy from a burning building, jumped off a cliff after a man you'd never met, and rescued a room full of children by taking a bomb blast. And that's just since I've known you! Anyone in their right mind would call that a hero! Or at least not someone who deserves karmic retribution!"

I should've just ignored Charlie, gone back to sleep until I was feeling less weak and shaky and slow, until I was up to arguing to win. Instead, I quietly observed, "Too little, too late."

"No," Charlie countered, edging towards a full-on tantrum, "My niece's life is not _too little_! All those other children's lives are not_ too little_!"

"And what about the ones I didn't save?" I asked him, gaze blank and exhausted, resigned. I was tired of the conversation, tired of Charlie trying and failing to talk me out of what I knew to be true. I mean, other people could see me for what I was. I'd been called a monster and a killer and a psycho, an angel of death. And no matter how many children I saved or didn't save, I was still all those things. Charlie just couldn't see because he loved me so much, and I loved that about him, but sometimes I really didn't need the blind, unwavering faith.

His blue eyes grew sad. "You can't save them all," he murmured, petting my hair back from my damp forehead, "All you can do is try, and you _never_ stop trying to save people, not even when you have to throw yourself in harm's way to do it. And though I wish you wouldn't go that far, it's part of what makes you so brave and amazing."

"Charlie," I told him, sighing, "I'm tired."

He sagged a bit, instantly ready to let me get some rest. He snuggled down beside me in the cot without another word.

I barely lasted a full minute. "You're not really letting this go, are you?" I accused.

Charlie chuckled, his arms folded safe and snug around me. "Not a chance, gorgeous," he remarked, nuzzling my neck, "I'll convince you even if it takes me the rest of my life."

I laughed a little, teasing, "Was that your idea of a proposal, stud?"

Without hesitation, voice serious, silky, Charlie answered, "Do you want it to be?"

My heartrate suddenly reached hummingbird levels. "Charlie," I scolded breathily, "It was a _joke_! Not... not right now! There's a war! And I almost died!"

"So?" he responded, fingers dragging lightly up the length of my spine, "Those seem like good reasons to live in the moment, to go for what makes us happy."

I would've held my breath if I didn't think it would result in my lungs exploding.

Smirking, Charlie challenged, "What would you say if I asked you right now? Got down on one knee with a sappy speech and something sparkly to go along with it?"

I gave a nervous laugh, still trying to catch my breath as Charlie's mouth inched closer and closer to mine. "I'd say you were insane," I whispered, "Absolutely raving mad."

"Sounds about right," the redhead agreed, resting his forehead on mine, "After that?"

I felt a little queasy, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I'd say I'm too young," was my reply, "That we haven't known each other for very long."

Moving in achingly slow, Charlie prodded, "And then?"

I laughed nervously. "God, you're a nut. Is this what you've been doing while I was asleep? Thinking up new ways to make me squirm?"

Charlie's grin spread wider. "It is a favorite hobby of mine," the man declared, darting in for a quick kiss, "You're so very lovely when you squirm."

I gave Charlie a light smack on the chest, feeling my face flush at the unintended innuendo.

But before I could respond further, Charlie's lips crashed into my own. It had been so long since Charlie and I kissed like that, since before the Diagon Attack. We were both starved for the contact, the closeness and intimacy and passion. For each other.

We may have let the situation get a little out of hand. I mean, it was a cot in an unlocked rebel cabin in the jungle. Mateo and the auror kiddies could've been back at any second, could've walked in and caught Charlie and me tangled together, tearing furiously at each other's clothes. Really, _anyone_ could've walked in, could've walked by and seen through the windows. Seen us both bare, breathless, our mingled sweat shimmering in the dim light of the one kerosene lamp on the bedside table.

They would've seen Charlie, reverent hands and lips, teeth and tongue, would've heard his soft, unceasing litany of mindless worship.

They would've heard my gasps, moans, growling demands for _harder_, _faster_,_ Charlie_.

They would've seen me flip Charlie onto his back, seen the way he bounced on the cot and laughed joyously and caught my hips in his rough hands. They would've seen his sunkissed freckles, my mottled, fading bruises, the force I used as I drove my hips into his. And again. And again. And again. And again...

I hope no one did see us, hear us. Saw me the way only Charlie should: hair wild and head thrown back, moving in time to our joined gasps of pleasure. I wouldn't want anyone else to see that, the blissed out way Charlie's pupils almost swallow the tropical blue in his eyes as he surges inside me and comes with my name on his lips. The way I never fail to follow him into that hot electric rush.

As far as I know, no one did see, not even afterwards when we collapsed onto the cot, when Charlie pulled me close and covered our drenched, shivering bodies with a thin blanket. No one saw me curl up against Charlie's strong chest, press my ear to his rapid heartbeat, already slowing with sleep.

No one at all heard me whisper, "Yes."

xxXxx

In the morning, after breakfast and a round of cold showers for all, the auror kiddies, Charlie, and I were asked to meet with one of the men in charge, Luis. He was a large man, Charlie's build and a little taller, with black hair, skin and eyes the color of dark cinnamon.

He greeted us with a friendly smile, and we saw that he was missing his right upper canine.

"Come," he said, ushering us into another building, this one enclosing an battered wooden table and chairs, a full bookcase and an old rabbit-eared television and radio. "Tell me," he said, once everyone was seated, "What business would you like to do with us?"

"You're holding a man for ransom," I spoke up, blunt, "We wish to pay the ransom now and take that man away with us."

Luis looked at me skeptically, responding, "If we have this man, what would you offer for him?"

I replied with only half the amount Scrimgeour had sent along, knowing that the curse I put on that particular bag would've kept the rebels from knowing I had more.

Luis scoffed. "We would ask three times that from your Ministry. He is a valuable man you think we have, yes?"

"Not valuable," I argued, "Just wanted. He is a murderer and we will bring him to justice."

Laughing, Luis answered, "Well, justice is not cheap, yes? If we had this man, we would make you pay to make him pay. Or else we would sell him to someone else who was willing to."

The hypotheticals were very quickly getting on my nerves.

"The difference," I declared, "Is that I will pay you now and take the man myself. No waiting, no dealing with transport." I upped my offer by a few thousand.

Luis still wasn't buying it. We haggled for a long, boring hour. Luis never dropped the hypotheticals. I had a very strong urge to hurt him.

"I think maybe," Luis finally said, "We would take this lower price for the man if you would first do a favor for us."

More amused than I should have been at that frustrating juncture, I thought bitterly to myself, _Quid pro quo, Clarice_. But that really wasn't helping. "What kind of favor?" I questioned.

Smirking insipidly, Luis stated, "Two of our men went missing last month on a mission. We would very much appreciate their return and the return of the artifact they were meant to obtain."

"Fine," I gritted out, "Not a problem. But I want to see Snape before we go, and I want your word that you won't sell him out from under me in the meantime."

Luis seemed suddenly skeptical. "You agree so quickly?" he pressed, "Without more information?"

"If it will get me what I want," I stated, curt and trying not to sound too annoyed (even though I really, really was), "Then yes. I'm very good at what I do, Luis. The specifics are only a minor hindrance in the grand scheme of things. Now, do we have a deal?"

He chuckled, conceding, "Yes. I believe we do."

xxXxx

The man the rebels brought in was skinny and filthy, dressed in rags, tied with his arms behind his back and a black hood over his head. I only got a brief look at his face between the hood coming off and being jammed back on a mere minute later.

The hood came off, and the man beneath blinked owlishly at the relatively dim light inside the cabin. His unbearably pale skin glimmered with a sheen of miserable sweat, a single drop clinging to the end of his long hooked nose; it looked terribly annoying, as did the dirty gag and the greasy tangle of black hair that hung midway down his bird-thin back.

And he was indeed the man I'd seen in my coma dream, the man who'd been running through the forest--who'd been running from the Zapatistas, if his current incarceration was any indication--and, at the behest of my mother, he was the man who'd done some sort of power bind on me as a child.

I wanted to know why. I wanted to throw him to the ground and jam my gun in his face and _demand_ answers.

But the rebels swept him out only a few moments later, stuffed the hood back over his greasy head and pushed him right back through the door to presumably be returned to whatever barrack or hotbox dungeon in which he was being kept.

My answers would have to wait.

"Here is all the information," Luis stated, handing over a single folded sheet of notebook paper, "Mateo can answer any other questions you may have."

I smirked, at Luis and then at Teo as I asked, "Teo's coming?"

"Your escort," Luis answered, grinning broadly, "You will need someone with you who our men trust, and Mateo insisted. He speaks very highly of you."

"I should hope so," I teased back, greatly amused by Teo's blush, "Certainly pulled his arse out of the fire enough times."

Smirking, Teo replied, "And vice versa, _mia bonita_. Don't forget about that."

xxXxx

The rebels had taken my helicopter, which--after I got over the initial feeling of rage and violation--I realized was actually lucky because it meant that Charlie, the kiddies, and I didn't have to be subjected to another days-long car ride through hellish jungle. We were simply blindfolded for the duration of the first leg of the journey (while Teo piloted, of course, seeing as how I couldn't see...).

Once satisfied that we wouldn't be able to find our way back to the base, Teo touched down and let us take off our blindfolds. We were in a clearing in the jungle, near a waterfall and a calm crystal pool. We stayed for an hour and had lunch on the bank. Teo explained more about the men and the artifact we were after.

"It isn't an artifact," Teo declared, grinning implishly, "It's a jewel. An emerald big as my fist. We call it _El Corazón del Guerrero_."

"The Warrior's Heart?" I challenged, exasperated, "You told them about that stupid thing?"

"Not me, dear one," he laughed, passing a chunk of spicy tropical fruit to Annie and ignoring Charlie's constant menacing glare, "They were already researching it when I joined up. The two men we sent, Fernando Espinosa and Vicente Jimenez, they were the ones who uncovered the location. It was supposed to be a simple matter of finding the jewel and bringing it back. But Fernando and Vicente never returned, and we've had no word from either for over a month."

"What's so special about this _Warrior's Heart_?" Isaiah asked, clearly skeptical

Smirking, Teo replied, "It's a very rare type of emerald called a trapiche. They're found only in Colombian mines and have these dark six-pointed star patterns in them. The Warrior's Heart is the largest and most perfect trapiche emerald in the world, one of the oldest ever mined. No one knows exactly when it was discovered or how it came to Mexico, but references to it are made in hieroglyphs that date back to the early Preclassic Period. That's around 2000 B.C. The legend goes that the gem can only be truly possessed by the bravest and most skilled warriors and that those not worthy are cursed just by laying their hands on it. It was held by many Mayan and Aztec kings, men who believed themselves worthy, but the stone has had few rightful owners. It was one of the first things that the _Conquistadores _stole and took from the country, and it made its way through the royalty in Spain and other parts of Europe for a hundred years or so before vanishing from the written record."

"There have been a lot of _rumored _sightings throughout history," I contributed, "It was supposedly passed down through several generations of Mongolian warlords, and there are even stories that Louis XVI had it brought to the Versailles Palace just before the French Revolution... it's the sort of treasure that power-hungry idiots are always chasing because it's supposed to give them an edge over their enemies. But most of those who actually seek it out aren't worthy and only manage to end up cursing themselves to misery, defeat, and/or death. Unless it's with a rightful owner, it changes hands very rapidly and that makes it almost impossible to keep track of. When it's possessed by a rightful owner, the Heart is supposed to provide protection and good fortune. A rightful owner will triumph and rule and cannot be killed in battle except by a more worthy warrior, who can then take possession of the stone and start the whole process over again."

Nodding, Teo explained, "Fernando and Vicente thought they had found the stone in 1900, in a muggle's private collection in Munich, except the muggle didn't know what the stone was at that point so it was just referred to as a 'large trapiche emerald.' Vicente was convinced it was the Heart because the man who bought it tried to have it cut. The jewler's shop exploded on the very day the stone was dropped off, and magical residue was present in immense quantities. Now, there were no survivors of the explosion itself, and the stone was never reported recovered. However, Ludwig-Maximilians-University of Munich was only a few blocks away, and they had a young expert in Pre-Colombian Mesoamerican cultures, Dr. Franz Pfenning. He had a German adventurer for a father and a Mayan mother who died when he was young. Pfenning was one of the people who rushed to the scene after the explosion and searched the wreckage for survivors. He was even interviewed for the newspaper. Pfenning was only twenty-three and hadn't been out of Germany since he was eleven, when his father brought him back there and enrolled him in boarding school shortly after his mother's death. But only two days after the explosion, Pfenning left on a sudden an expedition to Mexico. We know his boat made land in Veracruz, and he hired guides to take him into Chiapas."

"He was returning the stone," I realized, frankly flabbergasted, "He must've found it in the wreckage, known what it was, and tried to... bring it back. It was originally mined in Colombia, but he likely wouldn't have known that. References to the Heart are made only in Mayan and Aztec glyphs. He thought it belonged in Mexico. That thing has actually been here all along?"

Smiling proudly, Teo agreed, "That is what Fernando and Vicente believed as well. Only, other than the fact that he was headed into Chiapas, they couldn't find anymore references to his destination. And no one from the expedition was ever seen or heard from again. It's not for certain, but there is a good chance that Pfenning either stashed the Heart and died on his return trip, or died before he could put the Heart anywhere. In either case, as long as no one stole it, the Heart would be wherever he stashed it or with his body. Since finding a hundred-year-old corpse in the jungle is fairly impossible, Fernando and Vicente thought they would first visit all the ruin sites in the area. They were starting with Bonampak, and that's the last anyone heard."

"That's not right," I declared, frowning, thinking something was definitely up, "If they're half as smart as they seem for having put this all together, they should've gone to Yaxchilan first. It's far more likely the stone's ceremonial home."

Teo shot me a skeptical glance, inquiring, "Why do you say that?"

"Bonampak was a small settlement," I replied, "It was a dependency under the much more powerful city of Yaxchilan. The stone's good fortune would've seen to it that anywhere it was housed under a rightful owner became a power in the region. Even after the rightful owner dies, as long as no one else touches it, the protections remain somewhat intact. Besides, Yaxchilan in Mayan means-"

"Green stones," Teo cut me off, shaking his head at himself, "And what is the Heart if not a big green stone. I should've thought of that. I could kiss you."

Charlie growled audibly, crowding against my side.

"Er, not kiss," Teo quickly backtracked, "I mean hug. Friendly, platonic hug. Or maybe handshake is the correct word, yes? I'm sorry. My English, it's not so good sometimes."

"Your English sounded fine until a second ago," Evan muttered, laughing around the mouth of his canteen.

I lobbed a rock, playfully, at the boy's head, snapping, "Charlie, behave yourself. And Teo, stop pretending your English is bad. Nobody's buying it anymore."

"Fine," Teo huffed, smirking, "Having a big mouth is so much easier when people just assume I'm an ignorant half-wit."

"I _know_ you're an ignorant half-wit," I told him, gulping down the rest of my lunch and getting to my feet, "But I also know you speak perfect English. Now everybody finish up. We've got a long way to go before nightfall."

xxXxx

The structures at Yaxchilan, near the banks of Rio Usmacinata, are in fairly decent condition, still standing and safe to explore; the grayish white stones are worn and chiped and cracked, most covered in a soft fuzz of brilliant green moss. The place isn't exactly Disneyland, but the ruins do get some traffic, and the extensive site has been thoroughly mapped. The architecture isn't known for any kinds of hidden rooms or compartments, but I still felt that we should double check everything.

We arrived late that night, set up camp in the rain, and started our search the next morning. We paired up. Charlie and I were together (since he still wasn't untying us), and we searched the higest area called the South Acropolis. Annie and Isaiah went into the West Acropolis, and Teo and Evan went into the Central Acropolis. Not long after we all headed in our separate directions, Annie radioed that she and Isaiah had found something.

Upon arriving at their location, I saw that they'd come across an abandoned campsite a few hundred yards into the jungle, several weeks old by the looks of it. Teo identified a few assorted items as belonging to the missing men; my friend looked grave and worried. There wasn't really anything to show where Fernando and Vicente had gone though, no trail to follow, so we all got back to searching.

Charlie and I, being the strongest hikers, covered the most ground the fastest and were back at the designated meeting place on a shady terrace almost an hour before the rest were due to return. We took the time to relax, eat. Escape the mid-day sun. I kept catching Charlie staring at me, for which I'd usually just shake my head and laugh.

"This is pretty nice, you know," he finally reported, kind of nonchalant and just a bit whistful, "Being on an adventure with you. We'll have to do it again sometime. But just for fun. No blackmail or ransom or rebels involved."

I chuckled, slugged back some water and replied, "I look forward to it. And, while we're on the subject of our rosy future, when do you forsee letting me out of this tether? I'm starting to feel like a pet."

He pouted, arguing, "I enjoy spending time with you."

"Ya," I answered with a smirk, "But do you enjoy listening to me pee? Because that is entirely the wrong kind of kinky."

Charlie laughed and flicked a pebble at my shoe.

Before the conversation could go any further, we got a radio communication from Teo, this one urgent yet staticy and garbled and incoherent. He sounded altered and couldn't even give up an exact location, despite my badgering, so I decided to risk using magic and performed a point-me spell.

Quite a ways north of the search grid, Charlie and I found a hole; it was only about two feet around, and, had it not been for the person-sized rip in its leafy cover, I never would've known the damn thing was there.

Sure enough, shining a flashlight beam inside revealed Teo and Evan in an unconscious heap at the bottom, about ten feet or so from the surface.

"Bloody idiots," I sighed, dropping my pack and quickly rigging a rope so that I could repel down. I made Charlie stay above, so that Annie and Isaiah wouldn't show up and stumble in and fall on top of me.

The tunnel stank like mold and fungus and rotten meat and echoed with the sounds of dripping water and skittering insects and rodents.

Teo and Evan roused quickly and, aside from some scrapes and bruises, were pretty much fine. It's hard to believe that people that hapless could get so lucky, or that they would see fit to still whine about their mild bumps after avoiding what very well could've been crippling or fatal injuries.

"What were you even doing out here?" I scolded, shining my flashlight around the hole, which I'd discovered was actually a narrow cave that plunged further in and down into a fathomless darkness.

Pouting as he rubbed his bruised head, Teo explained, "I was reading Vicente's journal. The last entry said they planned to search this area."

"And you didn't think to radio that in?" I replied snappishly, "God, Teo! They _disappeared_, and you just run off after them without even telling me? How does that sound like a good idea?"

Still pouting, my friends answered, "I didn't think I'd fall in a hole."

I rolled my eyes, countering, "Once again, you've completely missed the fucking point. Well done." My flashlight beam caught something shiny. I investigated and found that the something shiny was a cracked pair of glasses.

"Those look like Vicente's," Teo reported solemnly, taking the object out of my hand and examining it carefully.

I turned my flashlight further down the dank tunnel and spotted a leg. Well, a leg _bone_. It was not attached to anything and, despite being almost completely decomposed and crawling all over with various scavengers, was still wearing a tatty old hiking boot.

"Out," I ordered softly, figuring it was a good possibility that the creature or curse responsible for the amputation was still in the general vicinity.

After vacating the hole without incident, we took about an hour to prepare to go back in. The cave needed to be searched, if only to confirm that Fernando and Vicente were dead. Coming back with such news wouldn't make the rebels happy, but I was hoping I could find the Heart in there as well and at least fulfill that part of the deal. It wasn't like the deaths had anything to do with me; the leg and its owner had most likely separated weeks previous, long before I'd taken the mission. I could hardly be held responsible.

Since he was still being whiny about the fall (and may have been slightly concussed), we left Evan to guard the entrance. We would've left Teo, too, but he needed to come to identify any bodies or parts we might find. Fun times.

Our little crew repelled into the hole, drew guns and flashlights, and set off down the tunnel. The first several hundred yards or so were entirely unremarkable, dank, twisting passageways filled with darkness and bugs and damp, stale air as the angle of descent grew steeper and steeper.

Then we reached a door, a great wooden thing built right into the slick cave walls. It wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting to find. Even more surprising were the carvings. The curse etched into the frame was a fairly standard one, similar to the Unbreakable Vow; it basically promised a swift, painful death to anyone who entered and then tried to leave without fulfilling the terms outlined on the door itself. Written in Mayan and Spanish were these words:

_Seekers of the Heart, _

_Enter if you dare. _

_Only the worthy shall taste daylight once more._

I spent another half or so breaking the curse, and then we continued on through the door. Immediately on the other side, the cave transformed from a soggy, unpleasant hole in the ground into a... into an actually quite cozy little entryway. Like you might find in someone's home. It had yellow striped wallpaper and hardwood floors and little bronze lanterns and a table with a vase of bright tropical flowers.

The shift was eerie and jarring.

"Spooky," Annie commented softly, peering about with wide eyes and looking quite jumpy.

"Mhmm," I agreed, leading the group onward down the hall and further into the strange underground house. We found a living room and a kitchen and a bathroom and a staircase that went up to another hallway, which branched off into several bedrooms and bathrooms and a huge, well-stocked two-storied library that reminded me of the one in Grimmauld Place.

In the library, back on the first floor, was the Heart. The gem really was as a big as a fist, roundish and glowing faintly green, the black six-pointed star inside it almost but not quite pulsing. It was beautiful and seated atop a black satin pillow atop a golden pedestal in the center of the room.

Beyond the pedestal and the mythical gem, a young brunette man of maybe twenty-five sat in a plush green armchair. He wore crisp blue jeans and a faded Rolling Stones t-shirt, both slightly snug and stretched across his broad, fit frame. His obvious muscles.

He didn't look up immediately when we entered the room, dark eyes staying firmly in the open book on his lap. He seemed to be finishing the paragraph or page, and then, not hurried in the least, the fawn-skinned youth marked his place, set the text aside on an intricately carved endtable, and rose to greet us with a wide, charming smile.

"_Welcome, seekers of the Heart_," he stated kindly, crossing the wide room, pausing briefly to touch the emerald before climbing the spiral staircase and joining the rest of us on the balcony. His Spanish was oddly accented, an old, formal dialect I'd never heard before, but he spoke with confidence and just a bit of good humor. Like we were all going to be great friends. "_Forgive me for not greeting you properly_," he chuckled, not offering to shake hand, just grabbing hands left and right before the owners could refuse, "_My perimeter spells must be acting up again. That happens sometimes, what with all the old magic around these parts._"

"_You're the Heart's keeper?_" I asked, still very wary despite the warm reception.

"_I am_," the young man replied. He had handsome features, sharp and vaguely bird-like, his nose long and his jaw pointed, his lips thin and shapely. Sweeping into a gallant bow, he said, "_Dr. Franz Pfenning. At your service, my dear_."

"_Franz Pfenning?_" I answered, sharing skeptical, worried glances with Charlie and Teo, "_That's impossible. He'd be a hundred twenty-three years old._"

The man chuckled, pushing rich brown fringe back from his high forehead. Gesturing for us to leave the library, he declared, "_I get no visitors for over a decade, and then a flood of people who all know my name. Very curious. Come. I will prepare a meal and answer your questions. And then we will decide who goes first_."

I found the statement a little ominous and asked, "_First for what?_"

"_For the fight, of course_," Pfenning beamed, practically vibrating with excitement, "_We must battle to the death in single combat to determine the Heart's rightful owner. Would you all like to freshen up? I have quite the selection of bath salts from all over the world. They're simply marvelous! And very refreshing!_"

I realized that Pfenning had to be completely bat-shit crazy. And that, mostly likely, I was going to have to actually fight him if I wanted to take the Heart.

Lucky, lucky me.

xxxxxxxxxx

So I realized that it's been a little over a year since I last updated this one, and I am understandably apologetic and embarassed. I hit a bit of a block, but I think I know better where the story's going now, so hopefully it won't happen again. And I will offer penance to my dear readers by spending all my spare time writing... no, wait. I already do that... um... I'll... plant a tree? Everybody likes trees.

Reviews (even ones scolding me for lack of updates) are awesome like awesome cake sprinkled with awesome :)


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